Anthology!
by The Miniaturists
Summary: A series of delicious one shots by a random selection of Our Girl fans who like nothing more than to kick back our heels, uncork and write about the fabulous world of Our Girl.
1. Chapter 1: Sort your world out

The Miniaturists are a random group of _Our Girl_ fans that like nothing more than to kick back our heels, uncork and write naughty Fan Fiction. More scribbly than scribes, more spirited than ghost writers, from old timers to new writers, we are united by a love for _Our Girl_ , respect for its creator Tony Grounds and a liking for the Fan Fiction one-shot.

So starting today we are posting the first chapter of Anthology!, a series of _Our Girl_ , Fan Fiction, one-shots. From time to time, when we feel like it, (ie have tippled a little, scribbled a bit and laughed a lot) we may post an additional chapter or two - each a delicious little one shot, an appetiser of something to enjoy from the _Our Girl_ world. Some of us are new writers to the genre, others are old hands you will recognise and a few (for reasons best known to themselves) prefer to remain anonymous. All of us are in awe of Tony Grounds for providing such marvellous inspiration and are, we confess, somewhat partial to reviews, follows, and favourites if you feel our efforts deserve them. Indeed they may encourage an additional cheeky chapter or two!

* * *

 **SORT YOUR WORLD OUT**

 **by**

 **Painted Cherries**

"Well I'm going whether you like it or not!" She was sat on the floor of her bedroom clenching her fist with sheer frustration.

"Why after everything can't you see that he's my mate? nothing more, nothing less! You really need to stop this as it's pissing me off big time"

She threw her mobile down onto the bed and started rifling through the pile of clothes on the floor to find her running gear. She needed to get out of this shoe box of a room and this shit hole of a house. She was going stir crazy with everyone feeling the need to regularly chuck in their two and eight about what she should be doing with her life. It didn't help that they didn't really believe her either that Smurf was only a mate.

The phone started to vibrate almost immediately she tried but couldn't stop herself from reaching over to check it was him, hesitating and catching her bottom lip for a second she nearly clicked answer, but stopped and swiped to decline the call.

-OG-

He was doing his best to pace up and down the kitchen but it was more of a step and drag and he couldn't work out what frustrated him more; the fact that this stunningly obstinate girl refused to answer her bloody phone now or the throbbing ache in his shin as he put pressure on his leg.

"Damn it" he jammed his phone into his pocket after calling several times and being cut off. Slumping into the chair that his mother had pulled out for him, where she had dutifully placed a cup of coffee and then retreated to the other side of the kitchen to make a cup for herself.

His cheeks flushed with anger as he stared broodingly at the hot steaming liquid in front of him, running his finger along the rim of the mug.

"Do you want to talk about it?" His mother tried to catch his eye as she leaned against the worktop opposite taking a sip of her coffee.

He didn't answer, he didn't even look up, he knew if he did that he would probably really lose it and his mother above anyone had done nothing to deserve the consequence of his dark mood. His parents had only been back a few days and it hadn't taken his mother long to figure out that something or more pertinently, someone had happened to lift his spirits whilst they had been away. This was confirmed for sure by finding a white lace thong wedged between the mattress and the headboard when she had changed his bedding.

After she had left said item neatly folded on top of his clean clothes pile he didn't have much choice but to volunteer who the owner was. It only confirmed what Rebecca had been straight on the phone to tell her, it was the young private that was at Charles bedside, she sounded like a beautiful, brave girl that had saved her son's life for which she would always be grateful but the relationship may also have ruined any future he may have in the Army.

Now to her that was no bad thing, having her son back in civilian life where she wasn't worried about him being shot at or blown up every waking moment would be a blessing but to Charles, the army was his life. it had been all he had ever wanted, he had sacrificed one marriage because of it, she knew this girl must be really something to have captivated her son so intensely.

After a long silence, he took his last swig of coffee. "She is going on a trip with someone, someone who she had a one-night stand with, they are just friends now, well she thinks they are but Smurf on the other hand, he is still like a lovesick puppy."

"Do you trust her?"

He shook his head, not meaning it as a negative response but more at the disappointment in himself that it was him that was behaving like the lovesick puppy if truth be told, but he couldn't help it. He wanted her all to himself, he wanted her there with him every day, despite anything he had said to her about waiting out before making any decisions about their future together. What he had really wanted to say to her in that moment was stay, nothing or no-one else mattered but he was resigned to the need to set her free to find what she was looking for. The problem now, was in the days since had lost all confidence that the end of her journey would lead her back to him.

"Of course, I trust her!"

"Well what's the problem then? Other than the green-eyed monster?"

That boy! she thought, he had the same look of petulance as his father when he wasn't getting his own way.

-OG-

She ran hard up the last flight of stairs pausing at the railings to catch her breath and a sip of water. The run had helped sort her head out, it didn't mean she wasn't still angry with him, it was like being back at the FOB again just after she had got back from leave, so much had happened since then how could he still be stuck in the rut of being such a jealous prick. The last week couldn't have made it clearer that it was him and only him that she wanted but that this also wouldn't stop her from being a good mate to whoever she saw fit, including Smurf.

She let herself back into the flat meeting her dad in the kitchen carrying through two Cola floats, she wasn't sure what was going on with her mum and dad since she had been back but wasn't going to ask too many questions. After all she had just come back from one war zone and was grateful not to have come home to another. She was just about to head up for a shower when the doorbell went, she turned back to the door and as she opened it was greeted by a black box on the floor, she looked around and couldn't see anyone so picked up the box and opened it. As she lifted the tissue she could see folded red fabric "Right come on you sad Welsh twat…where are you?"

-OG-

He now had the house to himself as his mother had finally given up trying to reason with him and retreated to get changed and go to one of her many committee meetings. He leant against the front window frame and looked out onto the green as he pressed the dial button, nervously rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. He had rehearsed what he wanted to say several times in his head for the last hour, "come on Molly pick up" he whispered to himself.

-OG-

Upstairs the phone vibrated as downstairs the kettle flicked off and she poured Smurf a cuppa perching next to him she could see he was looking at the flights.

"5 grand for upper class, that's a bit more like us isn't it?"

"You are not paying that much for flights" she could see that he was massaging his temple "You alright?"

"This screen is doing my head in" he was trying to focus on his debit card whilst scrolling through the booking form

"You might gonna need glasses." She nudged him playfully as the rest of the Dawes clan cottoned on and started with the banter. Dealing with them swiftly he gave her his best cheeky grin, pleased with himself that he had got to a good place with her where they could be mates and he could still have her in his life.

-OG-

He had lost count of how many times he had hovered over the dial button after already trying more than a dozen times to call her, only to be greeted by the automated voicemail. He hadn't left a message, as even though he had planned what he wanted to say it would likely all go to shit after the beep. Maybe a text would be a good opener? Something like "Sorry for being a childish, jealous idiot of a boyfriend" Which would be perfect except for the fact that they hadn't really talked about relationship status since she came back to the house with him and even though they had now slept together and it had surpassed any fantasy he had played out in his mind up until this point, he felt no nearer in understanding if she really wanted to be with him in the real world. She might be home in body but in mind she was still stuck back in Afghan with a myriad of unfinished business.

He grabbed his jacked from the chair, he had no idea how it was going to play out when he got there but he just needed to see her, hold her, talk to her, create something that gave her a reason to come back to him.

It had taken an age with the stop-start traffic as he had reached the edge of London. He parked up and switched off the engine, closing his eyes and trying to compose himself. After what seemed like far too much effort to get to the top of the stairs he pushed the doorbell and waited only to be greeted a few minutes later by a man in pants cursing "Who the bleeding hell is it now?" Charles shifted nervously trying to keep the weight off his leg which now had the all too familiar ache.

"Is Molly here?"

"Who wants to know?" Dave leaned against the door frame giving Charles the once over.

"My name is Charles; I was with Molly in Afghanistan"

"She isn't here, is there some kind of re-union going on ? She is out with my boy Smurf as we speak"

"Do you know when she will be back?"

"No idea mate"

"Ok well can you let her know I came to see her"

"Spose I can, are you brass mate? It's just you seem a cut above for a squaddie"

"Just let her know I was here would you please."

Charles turned to head back to the car as Dave stepped out of the doorway to watch him, as he got to the bottom of the stairs Charles could see the man, who from the scant description Molly had given, could only be her father. He was now leaning over the balcony clearly curious if the posh git who had just knocked at the door was going to get into the swanky type car that only normally appeared on the estate if someone was dealing from it or had stolen it from up West.

Just as Charles was getting into the car a passing ambulance with the all too familiar sirens swept past, clearly in a rush to get some poor soul to A&E. For a fleeting moment he thought of Molly but shook it out of his head as she was no doubt in a bar in town with Smurfoid commiserating or worse celebrating the early expiry date of their relationship.

It was late by the time he pulled up outside of home again, he had switched his phone off as he had been unable to concentrate on the journey through the temptation of glancing across at it constantly.

He let himself into the house, his parents had already retired to their sitting room on the top floor so he went straight up to have a shower. He dried himself off and felt better as the hot water had soothed the ache in his leg a little, he plugged in his mobile and put it on to the bedside table, pressing the power on button to bring it back to life, as he slid on some boxers he casually glanced over to see a missed call. He was tired and didn't want to get into anything tonight besides if she had been out on the lash with Smurf she was probably in no fit state to have a proper conversation. He pressed power off and got into bed, he would call her tomorrow when they would hopefully both be in a better mood to talk.

-OG-

"Molly…...Molly" her mind was swimming towards the voice "Molly it's me" the voice was mixed up with the chaotic orchestra of the various high pitched beeps of medical machinery. She opened her eyes, feeling the warmth of the early morning sun coming in through the blinds. Candy was crouched down by the side of the chair that Molly had eventually fallen asleep in, without hesitation Molly grabbed her into the tightest hug, both of them shuddering uncontrollably with tears and then instinctively, in unison, snapping to attention and turning to toward the bed, checking the sounds of the machines weren't lying and that his chest was still in it's steady rhythm of rising and falling as they pumped life into him.

"Candy I am so sorry, I should have known something wasn't right."

Candy steadied her gaze and took a deep breath.

"Now you can stop right there Molly Dawes! no-one could have known this was going to happen, sometimes things just happen that none of us can control...God knows why it has to be my boy again after everything that we have been through"

Tears were spilling onto her cheeks again as she reached over to grab hold of her son's hand squeezing it like his life depended on it, she looked back at Molly.

"It's going to be OK you'll see" then turning back again to her son willing him to wake up.

They had stayed by his bedside for several more hours, one of them taking turns to break the silent staring by trying to chat to him, hoping that he could hear them and it would help him come back to them.

A nurse had popped her head around the door to let them know that the consultant should be with them soon to discuss the results of the tests they had been regularly carrying out since he was admitted. Molly couldn't help but worry as to why they hadn't operated and that combined with the types of tests they had been doing didn't reassure her. She could see the looks between the nurses, despite their best efforts to hide their reaction, when they were checking for brain function and responsiveness to a range of stimuli.

Finally the consultant appeared and delivered the news that Molly had been fearing, her best friend in the whole world had gone and all that was left was a shell kept alive by the machines, the bleep, bleep, bleep of which where now boring into her head getting louder and louder making her want to scream out to make it stop. Without realising her silent internalised terror had been taken over by her body's own physical reaction, her knees buckling as she clutched onto the end of the bed for support gasping for air.

Candy was motionless just staring in disbelief that fate, faith, or whatever other malevolent force that governed our very existence had chosen to rob her of everything and everyone she had ever loved, her despair quickly turning to anger as she also knew that she could never forgive the Army for taking both of her boys.

They had been given as much time as they needed to say goodbye each giving the other some private space to be with him. Even though her logical, trained, medical brain told her he wasn't really there, it was now just his body, she held his hand, stroked his forehead and through the tears, whispered to him how she couldn't believe he had to go and bloody die on her just as she was about to get that trip to Vegas that he had promised her. Squeezing his hand for the last time she stepped back with Candy as the nurses began the process of disconnecting the medical equipment the beep, beep, beep getting slower and slower until the flick of a final switch left the room silent.

Molly had left Candy at the hospital when another member of Smurf's family had arrived. They had both stayed in the room keeping watch over him until it was time for them to let the nurses and porters do their job. After they had taken him, not knowing where to go they had wandered into the chapel, discovering that neither of them were particularly religious but it was a calm space for them to sit whilst the hustle and bustle of trauma and healing moved on. Hugging Candy tightly and promising that she would be in touch about the funeral arrangements, she took a huge gulp of air as she walked quickly across the car park, she had no idea where she was heading she just needed to walk as far away as possible, maybe if she kept on walking and never looked back she could pretend that none of this was happening because right now facing reality was not an option.

-OG-

The next few days passed in a blur she hadn't eaten or slept much and had found herself comforting everyone else when she could bring herself to tell them about it. She felt numbed by it all but yet tortured herself regularly by playing over every interaction she had with him, had she missed any signs that this was going to happen? She was making up her own scenarios as to when the injury occurred, how long his brain had been bleeding and why she had dismissed him having a headache. Why? Because yet again she was wrapped up in her own drama with the Boss which had once again managed to fuck things up for Smurf.

The night before the funeral she caught the train to Newport, taking her back to when she had first dropped everything to see him when they were on leave. She had been worried about him then and had wanted to make sure he was ok and keeping his head straight. It had been easy between them, she thought she had batted his feelings off enough times for him to have got the message that she just wanted to be friends, but became anxious with creeping guilt when she thought about how he had been a welcome distraction to pass the time until she could get back to the FOB to see the Boss again. If she had known the clock was ticking for Smurf back then she would have been more present in the moment with him rather than pining to be back in Afghan. She remembered how outwardly that day she was trying to be the chirpy cockney Molly, always there in a crisis, trying to be a good mate, inwardly she was churning inside with the swell of emotion that the last exchange between her and the Boss had left her with and that last look, saying everything by saying nothing before she ran for the helicopter. If only she had known back then she would have done everything differently.

She was snapped back from her thoughts as the train pulled into the station and was annoyed that even in her deepest moments of grief about losing one man in her life the other still managed to invade her psyche. She hadn't spoken to him yet and had managed to avoid his calls, but by now she was sure he would be in the know, the CO would have informed him. Shit her head was unravelling like a ball of tangled wool, she knew he would be as devastated as she was by this, but talking about it with him of all people just didn't feel right. Soon though, she wouldn't have a choice.

One by one they all filed into the pub and slumped down at the tables they had pushed together as the group had grown. Each of the lads had made a point of pulling Molly into a hug, all of them struggling to hold in their own emotions. She was struggling not to keep putting them straight when they hinted at the relationship between her and Smurf and she must be finding it more difficult than any of them to cope under the _circumstances._ Every so often she couldn't help but glance at the door and then her watch wondering if he was going to show but not wanting to ask. They spent the evening telling a mixture of funny and not so funny stories (back of the Indian takeaway raising its ugly head again) getting progressively more drunk which in turn lead to the stories becoming longer and more embellished. Eventually at chucking out time they all piled into a couple of taxis back to the Travelodge, with Molly checking their key cards to make sure she could kick them out of the lift on the right floor, how they got to their room after that was their look-out.

The next morning she woke with the post shots session, furry mouth and thick head that she gingerly lifted from the pillow. It was automatic pilot from then on methodically putting on her dress uniform and heading downstairs to get a cab to Smurf's house as Candy had wanted her to be in the funeral car rather than meeting at the church.

Anything could have happened on the journey and it would not have registered she was closed down, impervious to her surroundings. Unconsciously she was fidgeting with the corner of her jacket, pressing her lips together to stifle tears, beside her Candy stared straight ahead into the back of the hearse at the box draped with a flag  
that represented an institution of Queen and country that had robbed her of her family.

As she stepped out of the car she caught sight of him, his stony composure broken for a split second when their eyes locked. She looked away and moved to the side as 2 section gathered at the back of the hearse to carry their mate into the church. Once assembled they all began the slow procession inside, Molly took a seat behind Candy where she could see him again on the opposite pew to her right, staring ahead, motionless waiting to be called to do his duty.

-OG-

The sun was setting and it would be dark soon as she walked along the path, stumbling now and again on the loose stones. She wasn't sure this was a good idea but she had a feeling she might find him here and they hadn't really finished their conversation in the church before Molly had been whisked away to the wake. As she opened the gate and looked she could see his outline stood, strong and straight looking at the horizon, she moved through the grass toward him but he didn't acknowledge her presence so she stopped a few feet away looking out with him, she sensed that she shouldn't be the one to break the silence between them.

"She's right you know, King and Country, Honour, Service, Sacrifice, but what about those that are left behind? What happens to them?"

She moved a step closer to him, she wanted to reach out for his hand but she held back still feeling as though she was intruding on his own private grief.

"She's grieving, she's all over the shop, we all are, none of this is supposed to make sense and blaming yourself or blaming the army won't bring him back"

He sat down on the grass and looked back at her, flicking his head in that familiar way, pleading to her with his eyes to come and sit beside him. She moved in close leaning against his arm which he opened up and pulled her in closer to him,resting his chin on top of her head. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him slowly and deliberately and almost instantly she now wished she hadn't shut him out so many times in the last week and that he could have held her like this and made her feel safe and isolated from everything.

"I fucked up big time again didn't I?"

" Feeling sorry for yourself really doesn't suit you Boss."

"What have I said about calling me Boss?"

"Charlie then?"

"Nope"

"Chaz?"

"Fuck no!"

They both managed to force out a laugh, she looked up to find the smile fading as quickly as it had appeared.

"You know that I only want you to be happy and even though I love you more than you could ever know."

He hesitated and she could feel him trembling next to her as he spoke.

" And if being happy means without me….."

His voice became uncharacteristically weaker and trailed off.

"There you go again"

"Molly...I'm serious you have a whole career in front of you,this tour, you need to find what's missing, you need to sort your world out and everything in it"

"But you are in my world, you have been in my world since you walked out onto the tarmac at Brize with your Captain Stern Face on, every glare, every smile, looking into your eyes when I thought you might die on me on that bridge. You make me feel like a grenade has exploded in my head most of the time but whatever happens next in my world you are in it mate"

They sat in silence for a while longer as dusk approached, watching small boats come and go in the bay and the flicker of bats swooping between the trees.

"I came here with Smurf, when we were on leave, it's how I knew where to find you. This place was really special to him too and he was really happy for us in the end you know"

Charles wasn't sure if he could quite square the circle on all of it just yet. Geraint's death still haunted him and even though Smurf was off duty when he died he would always wish that he hadn't found out about his relationship with Molly in the way he did and would never be sure that the subsequent events that played out after this had not in some way ultimately contributed to his death.

"Penny for them?"

"What?" he was momentarily rescued from these darker thoughts by this beautiful bright young woman and her toothy grin.

"Penny for what's going on in that nut of yours."

He deflected her "We should be getting back, haven't you got a train to catch?"

"Nah I've got a bit longer, plus I thought you might want as much time as you can with me, given I am going to be away for a bit?"

"Well that goes without saying Dawes, speaking of which have you nothing that you want to say to me?"

"Nah...don't think so…" .she theatrically rubbed her chin which made him laugh again.

"Say it!" He jabbed her in the ribs.

"Say what?" She looked up at him doe eyed and innocent, biting the corner of her bottom lip.

He felt the flutter but was determined to stick to his guns she wasn't getting her way that easily.

"You know what!"

"Cockwomble?"

"Christ Molly …..can you ever just do what I am asking?"

"Yes Boss! Of course Boss!"..."Love you Boss"

"Molly?" he lifted her chin so that he could look her straight in the eye this time.

"Yes?"

He fixed her with that gaze again, the one that disarmed her, the one that let her know that the funny girl act wasn't cutting it and she needed to give him her full attention.

"I asked you this once before but I need to know again that you will come back to me."

"I Will…." she giggled again with that mischievous twinkle in her eye…... "Charles!"

He shook his head in resigned acceptance that beneath all her yanking of his chain that the bond between them was solid, lifting her to her feet, he pulled her in and before she had the chance to say anything else silenced her with a kiss. Then with no chance to catch her breath he grabbed her hand and pulled her back towards the path.

"Come on double away Dawes you've got a Bergen to pack."


	2. Chapter 2: What's the Matter?

First, thanks to everyone for tearing your eyes away from Captain James' delicious goat-stroke to read Painted Cherries' fantastic one shot, **_Sort your World Out_** _,_ last were all excited by your reviews, comments and support.

Today we are posting the next chapter of Anthology!, our series of _Our Girl_ , Fan Fiction, one-shots. Entitled **_What's the Matter?_** this chapter has been written by the intriguingly named Mortifying Mate! We hope you enjoy it and look forward to your comments.

* * *

WHAT'S THE MATTER?

by

Mortifying Mate

"What's the matter?"

"Why the fuck do you always say it like that?"

Leaning against the kitchen island, he waits, knowing this is going to be a long difficult conversation, one which afterwards, he'll probably still have no real understanding of the psychology behind it. All he does know is his wife is currently insisting on washing the dishes from dinner, even though there is a dishwasher two metres away from her in perfectly good working order, and that usually spells disaster… for him.

Taking a deep sigh, Charles, ensures Molly isn't watching, raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms defensively. Waiting. Hopeful that she will shrug her shoulders, the dishes will be abandoned and she'll tell him she's struggling with the long absence stretching out before them and come, give him a hug. But she doesn't, instead, from his position observing, she seems to be working herself up into even more of a mood. "Oh come on Dawes, we've been together 3 years now. You know you're not going to change me." He grins, letting it slide off his face when 2 angry green orbs pin him to the hard marble worktop behind him.

"And don't call me fucking Dawes."

Ducking, attempting to avoid a bubble of suds heading in his direction from an innocent spatula being waved dramatically around in the air, he can't hide the humour evident in his voice. "What do you want me to call you then?"

He regrets it. Immediately.

The spatula is dropped in the water, abandoned, the 5'3' frame of Molly James is squared off, her shoulders coming round to ensure her centre of gravity is ready for flight or fight. For a few seconds, he tries to keep eye contact, manages it until she's two foot in front of him, her finger coming up, hovering in the air. Then, knowing if he's got any chance of coming out of this with his balls still attached, respectfully, he lowers his gaze.

"I don't know, but seein' as all you could bleedin' talk about over dinner was Georgie sodden' Lane, I'm surprised there is any other words in your vocabulary."

Snapping his eyes back up to her, he can't help but give a snort of surprise. "You're jealous of your friend?"

"How the hell, have you just taken out of what I've just said, that I'm jealous of my friend. And she ain't my friend, she's an acquaintance, through you."

Turning away from her husband, Molly picks up a yellow dishcloth, wringing out the water and proceeding to mop ineffectively at the area now clear of its stacks of dirty dishes. She appears calm, but he knows from previous experience she is an epic aim when the mood takes her, and that has always been in jest, he'd hate to be on the receiving end of a wet cloth thrown in anger.

Charles chooses his next words carefully.

"An acquaintance, that you knew, before me."

With relief, he watches the cloth being thrown into the sink, the plug being pulled and his wife turning, copying his stance. Shrugging.

"We were facebook mates, met through some training, that were all. And see what I mean, you've turned the conversation back to her."

And she's back to her inner drama. A drama he's still not sure he can place his finger on. Yes, he did talk to Molly over dinner about his relief that the medic who'd accompanied him on a previous tour had agreed to help out. But he'd been genuinely appreciative of the meal his wife had prepared. Thanked her for the extra effort she'd gone to, okay, maybe he'd then gone back to the subject of how relieved he was that his team was assembled, albeit with new faces. 2 new recruits were always a handful, never mind the rest of 2 Section, Molly would normally be the first to understand. Not pick up on a few throw away, random thoughts about someone he tended only to think of when Elvis was round bumping his gums about the one who got away. Sod it. Charles decides he's going to be amused, show it. Let her see this is way off character, but yet it is still her, the cheekiness, it's all Molly Dawes, he wouldn't have it any other way. Though preferably not the night before deployment.

"You can be such a mardy little mare." Nope not impressed, he thinks to himself. The result, Molly going back to being defensive, and him rearranging his facial muscles, into a serious professional mask "All I'm saying is that she's a good medic. A safe pair of hands."

"With a perfect fuckin' manicure."

"I've never looked that closely, it was a figure of speech." He crosses no man's land, picks up her hand, letting the pad of his thumb roughly run over each individual short finger nail still damp from her attempt to wash and break every dish they own. Laughing, biting his lip at the obvious evidence her hand has never been near a manicure. He knows because Rebecca would have a mental breakdown if she so much as chipped her nail polish, would spend hours slathering expensive hand cream on, and refuse to put her hands in the dehydrating water of Fairy Liquid. Yet the fingers currently in his grasp mean the world to him, the hack on the side of the thumbnail bed, the rough skin, showing in his wife's eyes there are far more important issues in life than making sure her hands hide her lifestyle - he agrees. Especially, because these are the hands which have held him when he's been at his lowest, hugged him in moments of happiness. "I love your hands." Charles continues, tipping her angled defiant chin up until she's staring into his eyes. "Especially when they are around my…."

"Enough, you ain't changing the subject by starting to try and woo me." Pulling away, backing until there's the two foot of relative safety between them, she crosses her arms, muttering huffily. "Anyway, you never go on these days about me being a 'good medic."

"You are a great medic, a fabulous medic, but seeing as your commanding officer et al, tell you that, I didn't think you also needed to hear it from me constantly. Okay." Stating the obvious, hoping it might appease her. "I love you."

"It's just, you're going away tomorrow." His declaration of love is ignored, Molly off into her own little world, for which he is momentarily excluded. "For however shittin' long, with her, and on our last night together all you've done is talk about her…. I wanted to talk to you." Charles tips his head to the side, confused at the sadness in Molly's voice. Opening his mouth to tell her, if she's got anything to say he's more than happy to hear it, but it's too late, she takes two deep breaths, inhaling through her nose, apparent the doors closed on that specific conversation as she continues on her rant. "I fuckin' hear enough about it from the lads. Brains well fancies her." The blatant insecurity has him taking his life in his hands, bravely crossing the distance she's put between them until he can pull her against him, tuck his chin onto the top of her head and breath in the scent which means home to him.

"I know he does. But I don't think he's got a hells chance of her being unprofessional enough to look at someone in her Section." Shit. Too late, he realises he's put his large feet in it. And if his brain hadn't picked up on his own words too late, then the ball of almost nuclear tension currently within his arms would be telling him he's just said the stupidest thing ever. "I didn't mean it… "

She's away again, this time increasing the distance until she's at the door. He really has fucked up.

"How did you mean it then? Go on tell me, that I was unprofessional? Mmmhh? Or you wish… "

"No." The words are spat across the room harshly, they've been over this too many times, both of them wishing it could have been different, but neither able to change the past. "We were unprofessional, but not a day goes by that I regret meeting you, and as a CO of a section, then I am relieved my medic isn't interested in another member of my platoon. It's a headache I could do without."

Letting her hair hang as a barrier, her fingers stroke the handle of the door. "Do you fancy her?"

At first, he's not sure he's exactly heard correctly.

"What?"

"It's a simple question. Do you fancy her?"

"No of course I bloody don't."

"So, all that time in Kenya, helping her when she came back, you never once thought of her, of being with her or…."

"Molly. This is completely unlike you. I'm struggling to comprehend where all this insecurity has come from. Do you really have so little faith in our relationship? That I would..." If he wasn't going away tomorrow he'd be pouring himself a stiff drink, giving himself the courage to get through this strange conversation. The nervous habit, his parents tried to stop when he was a child, resurfaces, his hands tugging the hair at the back of his head, a sign of weakness - stress. Still, she wants an answer.

"Just answer the question. Charles. "

"Do you want me to discuss the inner workings of a male's sexual thoughts whilst on tour."

"Yes." She mumbles. His wife might be in a complete mood, but there is still the brief moment of attraction to her husband she can't hide. Her cheeks tellingly reddening.

Lowering his voice, Charles takes a few steps towards her, hoping after he's answered honestly, she'll give this nonsense up. "The only person in the world I imagine burying myself deep inside of is you. I miss you every single day. You are my world." It would be a lie, if confiding in his wife didn't feel good, made them even closer. Seeing, the small glimmer of happiness; the spark in her eyes and the slight upturn of her mouth could be described as an aphrodisiac in his book. "Yes, the closeness of an attractive female might increase those thoughts of you, but…. Oh christ, what have I said now?"

His wife has left the room, slamming the door with such force it ricochets back and allows him to hear her yelled words.

"You do think she's attractive then?"

Following, he doesn't notice the difference in temperature between the warm kitchen and the cold hall, the fabulous idea they'd had of renovating the old cottage now boring for both of them and they'd abandoned the idea and were now, currently saving up to get some builders in to do all the hard work for them. It was taking a long time.

"Well, she isn't ugly. Is she?" He shouts after her. "I wouldn't refer a friend for a psychological check-up for saying she was attractive."

"You can sleep in the spare room tonight."

"No, I will bloody not. I'm away tomorrow on a 3-month tour, so if you don't mind I'll sleep in our bed, and if you can't bear to sleep beside me, for whatever unfathomable reason is going on in your head, then you can sleep in the spare room." Overtaking her has always been easy, and this time is no exception, he's at the foot of the stairs, heading up to their bedroom, making her run to try and beat him. It reminds him of being a child. There's no insecurity for him, he knows that this will wash over, that at some point she'll break down and admit whatever is bugging her - his only hope is it's before he leaves. An emotion of not wanting to be anywhere else in the world but with her, her innocence and love for him - which he is in no doubt off, almost suffocates.

His hesitation is the chance she needs, angrily stomping past him, reminding him of a video of a cockatoo marching around a room. Stopping, he leans against the doorframe. Watching.

The duvet is thrown back, the spare pillows she insists on having because it makes her feel posh, used to create a barrier down the middle of the bed.

"Molly." Charles tries softly. "Stop this and just tell me what's wrong." Frowning, tipping his head to the side, trying to work out if the love of his life really has wiped a tear away. Christ it hurts when she's crying at an advert for Save The Children, or because of Smurf's anniversary, but, it's been years since he's seen her cry because of him. "Please, Molly. I'm begging you. Tell me."

Sitting down on the bed, Molly takes a huge juddery sigh. Trying to keep her tear stained face away from him. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"I wanted to talk to you at dinner, I needed to talk to you. Except, you wouldn't stop goin' on 'bout her. It was a bit shit." The words are dejected, mimicking the body language of someone who has the whole world on their shoulders.

"She means nothing to me." Splaying his hands, backing up his words Charles ignores the resuming defensive stance at his attempt to get closer. "In this moment I don't even like her. I can't make it clearer than that. Look, it's not too late."

A memory comes back, one from the very early days when she was being deployed. It had been hard for him. He'd never had to deal with the emotions of being the one to be left behind, adding in the wounded pride he couldn't leave his bed due to an agonising pain in his injured leg - he'd found himself petulantly telling her to stay away. She hadn't listened of course, instead climbing into bed beside him, sharing the first coffee she'd ever made, chatting nineteen to the dozen until he'd begged her to shut up and listen to how much he was going to miss her.

"I'll go and make us both tea. I"ll bring it up, and we can chat, put on some of the candles you love, we have 10 hours before I need to leave…"

"You don't like tea." Molly whispers.

"But you do." Charles whispers back, sinking to his knees in front of her, trying to get her to remember. "Before you went back to Afghanistan, you drank coffee?"

"It was rank."

"It was funny, your reaction. And I think, once you had added enough sugar you might of kinda' liked it."

"We can agree to differ, 'cause I don't remember that."

"What do you remember?"

"Not wanting to go."

"And I'm the same, I really wish I didn't have to go and leave you, if I could have any medic by my side it would be you and if there is anything in this world you need to say to me, then say it, because I absolutely, without a doubt, want to hear it."

For a brief moment, he thinks she's going to offload, there's even a sudden intake of breath , a look of steely determination crossing the features he loves so much, but at the last minute Molly dejectedly nods, the fight suddenly out of her.

"It, can wait until you're back, mate."

And he accepts it, because he respects his wife and, they are running out of time. He hates their absences. Pushes himself every night to continue with his long-distance degree in international disaster management & humanitarian response no matter how tired he is, all so at one point they can be out of this lifestyle. Can settle. Start a family. "Now can I hug my wife? Not let her go until I have to leave tomorrow?"

Molly's burrowed into him before he can even move.

"I love you. You'd better come back to me mate, promise?"

"I promise."

-og-

The autumn sun hasn't quite risen when Molly opens her eyes. A feeling of momentary calm, until she focuses on the indent on the pillow beside her, remembers why her eyes feel scratchy, why after he'd fallen asleep, their bodies tightly wrapped around each other, she'd cried.

"Hey you."

Following the sound of his voice, she finds him, showered and dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand comes up to stroke strands of hair away from her face, if he picks up on the dampness he doesn't mention it, instead he's trying to look positive. "Now remember, I'll phone you when I get to Brize, skype you when we get to Kathmandu, and I'll write such stonking love letters in every available second that I might win the Guinness World Record for being in love."

"Yeah, well remember I don't have such a strong stomach these days."

Charles laughs, shaking his head with amusement, bending down and placing his lips softly against the tip of her nose. "Said the girl who once ate a 2-day old curry that hadn't even been put in the fridge."

She had, it was true, the stolen out of date food she'd grown up eating from her Nan, had given her a solid constitution. Those days were passed though. Except he didn't know it.

Guilty; she basks in his adoring gaze. He's like a god to her, can't really do no wrong. Unlike her. She's fucked up. Big style. Over her formative years, she'd become used to making mistakes. The confidence he has given her though, meant it was becoming less and less regular. She had almost been surprised when she'd realised, scrap that, she'd had a Julius Caesar when she'd realised! And the one person she wanted to share her mistake with, it wouldn't be fair to tell. Not like this.

"N' remember." Grinning up at him, she manages to hide all the inner turmoil going through her nut. Knows she's been successful because suddenly his eyes clear, he looks youthful, happy. "I'll be usin' the old rabbit every night until you're back, thinking 'bout you. You might gonna' need to send me some dough for batteries"

"Dawes you are a complete tease." His voice grumbles in her ear, teeth biting her earlobe.

"Yeah none of that poncey love letters from me mate."

"You had better fuckin' put pen to paper, at least once. I need something to tuck in my pocket and read when I don't have decent wifi."

It's nearly time, he's pulling back, expression wistful.

Sitting up, Molly wraps her arms around the duvet, trapping her knees to her chest. Ready to say her goodbyes.

Charles starts the final process first, bestowing his wife with a teasing wink. "Behave yourself."

"You too."

She wants to say so much more, but can't. Time running out, the imaginary grains of sand slipping through her fingers, almost in a trance she watches him stand, feels his lips on the top of her head.

And then he's gone.

Molly stares at the ceiling, battling against the accumulating tears. Knowing she'd made the choice in his best interests. But what if something happened. Could she ever live with herself? She didn't think she could.

The cold air lingering in the hall tells her the front door hasn't long been opened and closed. She can make it, even if the stones on the path are painful on her bare feet, the autumn coldness harsh against her bare legs as she runs up the garden path, trying to avoid the sharp brambles. "Charles."

He stops immediately, turning at the sound of her voice. Confusion on his features as he stands in full uniform, kit bag slung over his shoulder.

"Molly you'll catch a cold. What on earth are you doing?"

Dropping the heavy black bag, Charles abandons it, striding over with concern to his wife frozen literally and figuratively to the spot. Startled, she takes a few steps back, what she has to say is difficult enough without feeling his warmth, seeing his disappointment.

"I'm pregnant. I'm sorry. I know it's a shit time. I know you didn't want this, that you wanted everything sorted 'n' to be around for every minute of this little bleeder's life. But there ain't much I can do 'bout it now. I'm sorry. I couldn't have you go 'n' not…."

"What?"

"I've only just found out, only did a test yesterday 'cause I kept being sick, was gonna' tell you…" She's babbling, her voice shaking with cold and nerves. There had been so many scenarios of telling him, she'd had three years to day dream about the moment they finally became would be parents, but none had been like this. Standing on a path in her shirt and shorts, shivering, watching the comprehension finally kicking in on his face.

"Molly."

"I am so so sorry, I missed a pill, didn't think it would matter, I'm sorry..."

In less than 30 seconds she finds herself lifted, cradled, not the fireman's lift he's always used to remove her from a situation, but a protective hold, letting her see the annoyance on his face. "Stop saying fucking sorry, there is nothing for you to feel sorry for. Okay?"

"You didn't want it until…"

He doesn't put her down until they're back up the path, through the door she'd never even bothered closing and level with the stairs. The protective side of his personality not wanting his wife, and mother of his unborn baby, to be standing barefoot on cold wooden floorboards. "Sit down." He instructs, the words gruff, an attempt to hide emotions. She does what she thinks he asks, the two of them sitting on the third stop. It's not close enough for him. "No, not there. On my knee. I need to hold you."

"I'm.."

"Don't say it."

It would be difficult to say who exactly is holding who. Molly believing she was comforting him and him believing he was comforting her. Except the truth was they were comforting each other. "I'm delighted. It's brilliant news."

"Really?"

"100 percent."

Moving her head back, she looks at him, reads his expression. The furrow on his brow is there, of course it is, he's worried, there have been demons in his head for too long now. A feeling karma is one day going to get him for the instructions he's followed, the lives he's taken obeying those orders. Molly knows him too well, his conscious will be telling him he doesn't deserve this. Even though in this moment she could tell him to stop, to focus on the good he's been pivotal in creating in the world, she doesn't:

"You need to really look after yourself , alright?" Crap, she knows she's going to start crying, manages to keep it at bay until a tear from him settles on her face. Then she's gone. Her arms tighten around him. "'N' I'll look after this little one, alright?"

His voice breaks in her ear. "No eating any of your Nan's food. I don't trust her, especially if she tells you it's straight out of Waitrose - she'd never pay the prices in there, okay?"

"I Promise."

"I'll speak to my parents, take the money they offered us, we can get this place ship shape for this little one's arrival." She feels his hand brush gently against her stomach, his chin lowering into her neck. "If you don't mind dealing with the building quotes when I'm away, I think we've both looked at enough catalogues for you to be able to make all the decisions."

"I'll ask my parents for something too."

Her words have the desired effect, she can hear the amusement in his breathing, feel the shake of his shoulders under her fingers, knows he's taking his time to try and say his next words without laughing.

"And what would you do with their money?"

"Buy some nails or somethin'?"

"Oh Molly."

"Made you laugh, didn't I?"

"You did, of course you did."

Finally she looks at him, her hand coming up to wipe the tear collecting on his top lip, then tucking a wayward curl behind his ear. She needs to look after him, for once, except for him, old habits die hard. He needs to reassure her. That's how he works, the rules he lives by.

"At least it's only a humanitarian effort I'm going on. I'm not going to be in danger. Thank fuck." There's a hollow ring to his words, they both know danger is never far from the British Army. Anyway, she's googled where he's going, knows the conflict surrounding them.

"And remember to bleedin' delegate, no heroics from you."

"Promise."

"I love you." Countless times she's told him this morning, but with the large watch on his arm ticking away the minutes, she knows they don't have long.

"I love you too."

"You're gonna' have to go, ain't you."

There's a hesitation, she hates that somewhere in his brain he's probably thinking of staying, of going AWOL. Anything to keep her safe, him safe. She can't let him.

"Charles James. You are a soldier, you're the nuts at being a soldier, a leader of men 'n' all that crap. You are gonna' go out there and do your job. I'm gonna' miss you, of course I am but I promise you, the day the coach pulls up to Barracks I am gonna' be there, a little bit wider around the waist, 'n' when I run to you, you might gonna' need to expect me to be a little bit heavier, but I promise that'll be start of the rest of our lives, us three - okay."

She's lifted again, held close to his body until she's found her footing. Looking up she finds the expression in his eyes reaches her soul. Tells her everything is going to be okay. With a sigh of contentment in this strange moment of her life, she lets him guide her head until their foreheads are together; touching.

"I need you. Dawes. To go back up those stairs. As long as you are down here, I am never going to leave, got that?"

"Is that an order Boss?"

"No. Because we both know, the chances of you following orders are nil. Don't we?"

"There is that." Molly's starting to let him go. Putting a fraction of a distance between them, even though her fingers have their own mind, tracing the sleeves of his jacket. Knowing she's stalling, they're too seasoned at this, been here too many times, she knows she's not being fair on either of them.

One last time, well for the next 3 months, she tilts her face up, the rush of his breath into her mouth filling her mind, body, and soul, their kiss chaste but full of the love they have for each other.

Seconds, or minutes, she's not sure which, she pulls her body away, ignoring the magnetic link they seem to have. Halfway up the stairs, she stops, hands on the handrail and turns. "Come back to ….. us."

"I will."

* * *

The Miniaturists are a random group of _Our Girl_ fans that like nothing more than to kick back our heels, uncork and write naughty Fan Fiction. More scribbly than scribes, more spirited than ghost writers, from old timers to new writers, we are united by a love for _Our Girl_ , respect for its creator Tony Grounds and a liking for the Fan Fiction one-shot.

So starting today we are posting the first chapter of Anthology!, a series of _Our Girl_ , Fan Fiction, one-shots. From time to time, when we feel like it, (ie have tippled a little, scribbled a bit and laughed a lot) we may post an additional chapter or two - each a delicious little one shot, an appetiser of something to enjoy from the _Our Girl_ world. Some of us are new writers to the genre, others are old hands you will recognise and a few (for reasons best known to themselves) prefer to remain anonymous. All of us are in awe of Tony Grounds for providing such marvellous inspiration and are, we confess, somewhat partial to reviews, follows, and favourites if you feel our efforts deserve them. Indeed they may encourage an additional cheeky chapter or two!


	3. Chapter 3: An Alternate View

_First, another big thank you to everyone for turning away from delicious Luke Pascalino's hard stare at the end of episode two to indulge in Mortifying Mate's_ What's the Matter? _Does Mortifying Mate have a secret hotline to Tony Grounds? Plenty of reviewers seem to think her story about pregnant Molly Dawes might be on the nail... and while we are talking about reviews, thank you very much for your continuing support._

 _Today we are posting the next chapter of_ Anthology _, our series of_ Our Girl _Fan Fiction one-shots. Entitled_ An Alternate View _, this chapter has been beautifully written by Chevy Chase_ , _who has never written before. It's an excellent first-shot and one to savour._

* * *

AN ALTERNATE VIEW

by

Chevy Chase

The view from my sun bed is idyllic, the Mediterranean Sea is azure blue with a million sparkles on the water. The sun is warm with a light breeze to keep the temperature comfortable – perfect. Except it isn't perfect, my life isn't perfect. I am seething and I have a burning knot in my stomach: how can this have happened to me?

I, Rebecca James, always get what I want…

My childhood as Rebecca Montegue, only daughter of William and Sophia Montegue was that of comfortable priviledge. Daddy made his money in the city in the 80's, then a series of well timed investments meant that money was never an issue. Mum on the other hand never worked and was always on hand for me. Private schools, Pony Club and endless summers in the med summed up my childhood. I was never academically gifted, but then I never needed to be. I had no real intention of going to university, but when all my friends were applying I thought it sounded like fun and I didn't want to be left out. So with a little help from Daddy and the School, I managed to secure a place at University to study Geography.

It was during Freshers week that I saw him; six foot plus with penetrating dark brown eyes, lips to die for and a slim athletic body, he was laughing and drinking with his friends and he made my jaw drop – no-one had ever done that before. After some discreet enquiries I found out his name was Charles James, he came from Bath and he was studying English. My plans started to form immediately and a quick phone call to Daddy, followed by an interview with the Faculty Head, saw me, at the beginning of the academic year, start my English degree on the same course as Charles.

When I want something I am single minded and go for it relentlessly. I was tall and slim with long blond hair, ice blue eyes and cool as a cucumber and I made sure I was involved in every event Charles attended. We quickly became a couple and my cool exterior was melted for the first time by the intensity of our relationship, Charles was a fantastic lover, considerate, inventive and exciting. Oh I was still Miss Cool with everyone else, I know they called me the Ice Maiden behind my back but I didn't care, I was totally in love with Charles James.

The university years were bliss, sex, parties, drinking and staying in bed all day, I never worried about the academic side and my 2-2 result was not entirely unexpected. Charles on the other hand got a first and he could have done anything he wanted.

Daddy was all primed to set Charles up with something in the City, but he knocked me sideways when he announced that he wanted to go to Sandhurst and become an officer in the British Army, following in his Grandfather's footsteps. He had never mentioned it before and it was not in my game plan. I was not going to be an 'army wife'. However all that was deflected by Charles getting down on one knee and proposing, a week before he started at Sandhurst. I was ecstatic: I was in love! Our wedding later that summer was the full works, it cost a fortune and I was the envy of all of my friends.

I hated Charles being at Sandhurst – I hardly saw him and I hated the army for it! I kept that to myself though, as I was sure I could persuade him to leave after a couple of years.

The reality of army life was a total shock, our weekends away and dinners with friends being replaced by tedious army functions, don't get me wrong I could play the part of officer's wife at these functions standing on my head, but it was so not me to deal with smelly kit, bergans and boots!

I remember Charles was on exercises when I found out I was pregnant, I was shocked as it wasn't planned, but none the less I couldn't wait to tell Charles. He arrived back, dirty, exhausted and short tempered. I had cooked his favourite and had planned on breaking the news over dinner. His news that he was going on his first tour in four weeks hit me like a body blow. The tour was due to finish the week before I was due – I cried that night.

Charles was a bit gobsmacked he was going to be a dad, but was supportive and loving, however all too soon I was waving him off on his first tour.

Being on my own pregnant and bored was horrible, as I grew in size I became more and more miserable. The pregnancy was challenging, I was sick the whole time, frequently hospitalised and I couldn't wait for Charles to be home. Two weeks before he was due back I went into labour, it was long and exhausting but eighteen hours later I gave birth to our beautiful son Sam. It was eight days before Charles got to meet his son – I resented him for that, even though it probably wasn't his fault.

We moved into a bigger house closer to Charles's base and family life began. Except it didn't – he was never there, coming home late and exhausted, leaving all the baby duties to me, I felt like shit!

I snapped straight back to my pre-pregnancy body and a year down the line was beginning to get some sort of life back. I badly wanted Charles to leave the army and I am used to getting what I want! Charles wouldn't hear of it, his reasons of duty and wanting to make a difference jarred with me. What about us? What's wrong with being your own boss and answering to no-one? Why would you want to live out of a bag, in a tent in a grotty desert? We had some heated rows and afterwards I would feign a headache and refuse sex. – he hated that, Charles loves sex!

When he announced he was being deployed again - I flipped. The prospect of another solitary six months was unbearable. Charles did seem genuinely sympathetic and said he would make it up to me – by leaving the bloody army I hoped!

I took Sam with me to wave him off, but I couldn't tell what he was thinking, he was distant and he had his 'work face' on. I was so upset this wasn't fair.

I was having a new kitchen fitted the very next day, so immersed myself in dealing with that. Nothing went to plan, there were units missing, they sent the wrong doors and the fitter dropped the cooker hood, I was furious and I rang the company to complain and I was rewarded with a visit from the boss/owner and there it began.

Frustration and anger at Charles's deployment resulted in a rant to a startled Mr Jed Davies and to my horror I burst into tears. He took me in his arms and held me – Oh it felt good to be held. He sorted out all the problems and invited me out to dinner. So leaving Sam with a babysitter and still smarting from being abandoned, I went. I have a tiny pang of regret that perhaps this was ill advised – but hey no-one could blame me could they? Jed was slightly shorter than Charles, muscular and well covered, he was surprisingly gentle and I had him in the palm of my hand. He quickly became besotted with me and I loved the attention. He took me for weekends away, holidays in 5* hotels and treated me like a queen. He wasn't a bad lover just a bit clumsy and lacked imagination and I taught him a lot. I hadn't heard from Charles for three weeks when I decided to leave him and move in with Jed . I moved out the day before Charles was due back. I left him a letter – I suppose I thought when he realised how deeply I hated the army and how selfish he had been, he would beg me to come back – he didn't.

Within weeks I knew I had made a serious mistake, I didn't love Jed, he was kind and devoted to me but it was boring and I missed Charles.

Three months after I left, when I was due to drop Sam off with his Dad, I asked him if I could come back. I was fully expecting to have to grovel a bit, but when straight away he said "of course" I was delighted. However he followed that with "you can come back, but I will move back to barracks and in with my parents" – Damn!

To be honest I tried everything after I moved back into our home, to get Charles back. I was heartened by the fact Charles seemed uninterested in any other women. That so called friend of mine Olivia Portas kept inviting him for dinner and accidently 'bumping in to him', but happily he seemed oblivious. Sometimes I felt he was warming to me especially over Sam. He even cuddled me when Sam was ill, but we couldn't break down the barriers that were my infidelity and the fact he was still in the army.

The onset of another tour, his third, left me cold, but I was in no position to comment. Charles was his usual professional self, but I got the distinct impression he was pleased to be going. I was never much interested in Charles's work so we rarely talked about it, but his third tour changed him. When he returned he was quiet and morose, he said he had lost one of his men and he blamed himself as his Captain. I thought that was ridiculous, but his low mood continued despite my attempts to lift it.

Some months later I was overjoyed when he arrived unannounced at the house, I was sure he had come to say he wanted us to try again. My world fell apart when he said he wanted a divorce and that he was going to volunteer for a fourth tour to let me sort it all out. I never got on all that well with Charles's parents but even they said that Charles shouldn't make decisions like that whilst he was still so low and that they were seriously worried about him.

What choice did I have? He said I could keep the house and I clung on to the fact that we still had Sam and that would tie us forever. The divorce was finalised a couple of months into his tour but I was still supremely confident that he would eventually come back to me.

The knock at the door late one night was a complete boneshaker, Charles had obviously forgotten to change his next of kin. They said Charles had been shot and was seriously injured, he was being transferred from Bastion to Birmingham. I know it sounds silly but I had never really considered that Charles was in danger – it would never happen to him would it? – but it had. The reality of losing Charles and Sam losing his Daddy hit me hard. As soon as I was able, I packed Sam and I a bag to travel to Birmingham. When we got there, Charles was barely concious and had lots of tubes and equipment attached to him and he looked so ill. I'm not really very good with injuries and looking at his, made me feel faint. The doctors said that the first operation on his leg hadn't worked and he needed another urgently. Sam and I retreated to a family room in the hospital to wait for news. Sam wanted to leave a message for his dad when he woke up and a kindly nurse suggested he wrote it on his arm so it wouldn't get lost. It brought a lump to my throat and I hoped Charles would know it came from both of us. I remember thinking that he was so going to need me while he recovers from this and I would ask him to move back home whilst he recouperated.

I got a message from the ward to say he was back and awake at 6.30am. Feeling happy and optimistic, I dressed, applied my make up carefully and Sam and I rushed across to see him. I had hoped he would be pleased to see us but what I hadn't expected was for him to be gazing into the eyes of a scruffy squaddie – was she stroking his brow? Judging by the way she jumped back, I'm sure she was. Charles introduced her a someone who saved his life in Afghanistan, I felt sure that was an exaggeration so when she said she she had better go, I said not to on my account as I wanted to know more about this girl. Sam was giggling at her, which was annoying and I then decided it was probably better she went. It was the way she said 'ditto' when she said goodbye to Charles I didn't like and the way he looked at her! That was the first time I encountered Molly Dawes, I never saw her again at the hospital so dismissed it as a visit from one of his section and no more.

Disappointingly Charles went back to his parents house when he was discharged from hospital, he still had to have extensive rehabillitation at Headley Court, but I went to see him, using Sam as an excuse, as much as possible. He was distracted and distant and was very hard work! His parents were due to go away on holiday, so I took it as my main chance to get in there, become indispensible and work my magic on him. By now he was much more mobile, though he still had a heavy limp. When his parents left for Lake Garda I decided to visit Charles, for once without Sam, to try and get him to open up and talk and hopefully get him into bed. I was aching for some physical contact, especially Charles's kind of physical contact!

Strangely there was no-one in when I knocked at the door , I knew it wasn't his Headley Court day so I went for a short walk thinking he would be back soon. As I rounded the corner of the Royal Crescent I saw him up ahead, it was his limp I noticed first, but he wasn't alone, he was arm in arm with a small girl with long wavy chestnut hair. I couldn't make out who it was and hurried to get closer. Before I could get close enough they disappeared inside the house. I remember thinking was she part of the rehabillitation team or maybe a visiting relative. I hovered outside wondering whether to knock, in the end I decided to go and collect Sam from school and return to see if the mystery lady was still there.

Returning with Sam I was met at the door with a less than warm welcome, Charles was reluctant to let us in, but Sam pushed past and ran into the kitchen. Charles was quickly behind him, to find Sam standing at the table talking to the girl. It took me a minute to realise who it was, well she was a lot cleaner than she had been the last time I had seen her. No less than Molly Dawes! This had to be against regulations, even if she was just visiting, I excused myself and headed for the bathroom upstairs to calm down and collect my thoughts. As I walked past Charles's bedroom, there on the floor, beside the rumpled bed was a pair of sandals and a black clutch bag, Charles would never leave his bed unmade and only one conclusion could be made, they had slept together. I turned on my heels collected Sam and left. I waited until the next morning before phoning Charles and gave him a piece of my mind. I would not have Sam subjected to any floozy squaddie he decided to bed! Charles was icy calm and pointed out Molly was a friend and I had arrived uninvited!

As quickly as Molly had arrived she was gone again, leaving Charles in an upbeat mood. A couple of days later I was dropping Sam off at his father's when he took a phone call, it was obviously from Molly Dawes, as he kept saying "Molly calm down" she appeared to be crying and incoherant. What ever she said shocked him to the core and he just sat down in a trance. He didn't respond to me at all, but as I hoped they had split up, I took Sam back home with me. I only found out what it was all about from his mother, when she informed me that Charles was away at a funeral of another one of his men. The soldier had died suddenly when he was with the medic that had saved Charles's life.

Charles returned to his distant distracted self when he returned and as Molly Dawes seemed to have disappeared and he wouldn't talk about her, I assumed they had indeed finished. I was out with the girls and had had far too many proscecco's one night when I decided to just go for it. The girls had encouraged me and I rang Charles and asked him to come round, he didn't know that Sam was staying with my parents and he assumed there was something wrong with him. I put on my sexiest underwear and lay on the bed and waited. My sole intention was to seduce him, after all he could never resist me before - I could give that Molly Dawes trollope a run for her money!

Charles laughed, he actually laughed at me and said " Rebecca put your clothes on, I'm not interested" I was burning with frustration and anger - how dare he! He told me he had found the love of his life and whilst he wasn't sure she would come back to him as she had taken a short tour in Afghanistan, I had done him a favour, leaving him when I did.

Molly Dawes is the polar opposite to me and I hate her. I hate them both! I have come out to my parents villa to calm down and think what I'm going to do next. Nobody has ever turned me down,

I always get what I want….


	4. Chapter 4: Captain James' Diary: RnR

_First, things first... as usual a big appreciative grin for managing to tear yourselves away for a few heartbeats from the adrenaline rush that was episode 3 last week, to read Chevy Chase's fantastic introduction to Fanfiction with Rebecca's story:_ An Alternate View _. As always, your reviews were much appreciated by us all at the Miniature Towers._

 _This week's writer needs no introduction to OG Fan fiction readers, she is the unforgettable jpcrafty whose beautifully named fic:_ I want you to be brilliant _first appeared in December 2014. If you haven't read it, look it up and enjoy! Tonight she's written a cracking one shot to relish:_

* * *

CAPTAIN JAMES' DIARY: RNR

by

jpcrafty

The dust was still swirling outside the compound. The helicopter just a spot in the sky getting smaller as each second passed. I knew I shouldn't still be standing there, there were probably insurgents eyeballing me right that very minute. A shout from Kinders made me reluctantly turn away and back to safety.

My tour is officially fucked. I've got a load of ANA in body bags to sort out but all I'm thinking about is the gobby private who is on her way back home this second. After all my tours and the shit storm that is currently my personal life, I'm teetering on a dangerous edge. My beloved army rigidity is shaken and I don't know what to do. I need to focus on the task in hand but I can still smell her bloody shampoo from earlier and it's driving me crazy.

I looked at the rag tag group that is 2 Section still laughing and joking at the ridiculous shopping list they were shouting at poor Molly as she left. A quick bark from me had them scurrying away to sort themselves out for a debrief. I know I shouldn't take it out on them but I need regain some semblance of control.

I came back to my tent, flinging back the canvas, glad to have my own space. A pent up breath escaped that I had no idea I was holding as I crashed into my chair, my fingers automatically rubbing my forehead as I tried to clear my head. The notebook and pen on my desk tell me I need to write up my notes from this morning's incident whilst it was still fresh in my mind.

X

Notes done, I emerged back into the harsh sunshine and grabbed a bottle of water. The lads were quiet now but there is an odd air about the place with Molly and Smurf away and Sohail having gone AWOL. Each team feels incomplete even with Jackie coming in soon to replace Molly temporarily. I gave them a ten minute heads up which should have just about given them enough time to get their arses in gear. I found Kinders already in the Ops Tent, obviously reading my mind as there's was cup of coffee waiting for me.

I thanked him. A beer would have been nicer though, he'd responded. A decent glass of wine, a steak, a good bath and a proper would be heaven! I'd sighed.

"At least Molly and Smurf will sleep well tonight!" came his reply.

My hackles were raised as I automatically assumed the worse. Molly and Smurf. Together. I swallowed down the hint of nausea that rose as I tried not to snap.

I told him "You know the rules about relationships in the army". I concentrated trying to hide the blatant lies coming out of my mouth. He told me he didn't mean anything like that but sleeping in their own beds at home. Molly at least deserved it- as it had been a pretty eventful tour for her so far he'd apologised.

I'd inwardly breathed a sigh of relief as I agreed with Kinders sentiments. Her determination and dedication has been outstanding. She has grown enormously since I first met the petulant madam at Brize.

I agreed, I was impressed and that I'd already put her forward for a medal recommendation for that situation with Smurf. I commented she's struggling with all the mess with Bashira and after this morning's incident at the mountain pass this week of RnR couldn't come at a better time.

I couldn't decide if I said that for her benefit or mine. A week apart will do us good. A chance for me to figure out how I can just get through this tour and get back home without further incident. Maybe seeing her family will sort her nut out as she'd say.

X

Debrief didn't last long. We're still unsure if it was Green on Green but all the bodies have gone to Bastion on the transport Jackie arrived on. I couldn't look her in the eye, terrified I'd see something that said 'more deaths on your watch James'. I couldn't blame her, after all she had to also deal with the aftermath of Geraint. The ANA have a hell of a job to sort out. With no further clues and no-one knowing what has happened to Sohail he's become the number one suspect which I'm sure Smurf would love to hear. Molly's warnings about his behaviour on the subject of the Taliban still linger. I know Sohail wasn't our biggest fan but would he really shoot his fellow men? I'm not ready to believe it just yet.

X

I've written up the details and contacted those higher up in the chain of command. They've taken it up so it's theoretically out of my hands but I'll still have to deal with any further ripples. I still can't work out where the mindless shooting of a bunch of volunteer troops fits in with the bigger picture here. It's a waste and looking at how it appears they were killed, it's cowardly. Murder pure and simple. I'm coming round to Molly's point of view-these were young lads who didn't need to die.

I got a flash back of her in the dusky light in her tent. The mournful look on her face as she thinks she's to blame for the mess. Even I, who has been long involved in this conflict can't always figure out my role. I give and take orders to try and formulate some sort of plan to help create peace. Trying to make a difference. I looked at my watch, the day is dragging. I must be getting soft as I couldn't even be cruel enough to make the lads go on a run later. As long as they carry on with the shifts and duties as normal I'm happy.

X

Night has fallen now, a peace has descended upon the compound. A great contrast to today's upheaval. There is the odd murmur now and then but nothing major that breaks the silence. I'm still awake, arms folded underneath my head as I stare at the khaki material above. Normally the darkness helps me sleep, but tonight it seems to provide the perfect backdrop to the myriad of scenes apparently on a loop in my brain. Her giggle as I stole her breakfast and the overly sweet taste of those Coco Pops on my tongue. Her silhouetted body as I appeared in the entrance of her tent to tell her she was going home. The haunted look as she wants to fix things. Her smirk as she took the piss out of my Nespresso machine.

I have no idea what came over me to write out Rosabaya on her arm. Why didn't I write it on her hand, that's what most people would have done? Was I subconsciously thinking-that'll come off too easily and it will be gone and she'll forget about it. Maybe forget about you? Was I branding her in some possessive way? Did I want her to trace the letters in the same delicate way I'd scribed her skin? The hairs on my arms raised as if I can still fell the warmth of her palm, the curl of her fingers as they linked with mine.

Come back to me, I'd pleaded. I will was the whispered answer that finally made me give in to sleep.

Another day arrived no different from yesterday, I thought initially until I remembered what was missing. I'm naturally awake before the others so I grabbed a shower whilst I could. My eyes automatically fell on the med tent as I walked and I had to tell my feet to carry on their current path as what I truly sought was now back on home soil. The water was hot for which I was extremely grateful, washing away the thoughts I needed to avoid. Refreshed I went back to my tent and fired up my Nespresso machine, counting the few pods I had left. I really hope Molly does remember to get me some as the last time my mum took weeks to order some and I had to force myself to drink something hideously instant.

As my brain finally began to work, I dropped by Captain Azzizi to see if the new replacements at the mountain pass had reported in this morning. It appears everything seems to be in order. I checked in on the guards and sentries, no disturbances overnight and still no sign of Sohail. I walked towards the kitchen it was bustling and the smell of bacon wafting in my direction even had me vaguely tempted. Jackie emerged, stretching announcing that was the best night's sleep she'd had in ages, the looks she was getting from Dangles don't escape me either. A frown from me saw him joining the queue for scoff. Sternface has regained some sort of normality.

X

It's our turn for patrol today, that should stem some boredom for a while and at least some post should also arrive later. I've told everyone to make sure all weapons are cleaned and oiled ASAP, the last thing I need is to come under fire and the lads not be prepared. I know they already know this but I can't take the risk. I'm still wondering if Molly has made it home yet. I don't even really know where she lives. Near West Ham I get it but that's just a football club and not an actual borough of London right? I go through my own kit to get it ready, got to lead by example. I have to clear my head, I can't have things clouding my judgement, I've got to protect my men and make sure everyone is safe.

X

A standard patrol. No skirmishes but Brains is still moaning about the dust getting in his eyes. I've told him maybe he should wear some goggles but of course the only reply I received was that the only ones he'd wear were of the beer variety! It looks like they aren't missing Molly's cheekiness as much as I am or maybe they are hiding it better. Ammo returned I let them rest up until I choose what sucker is going to pick up the mail sack.

X

Mansfield drew the short straw this time. It's not much of a punishment, well maybe sending a pasty skinned ginger guy out in the full heat of the sun. To be fair he's adapted quite well with a few hastily modified items of clothing plus a regular top up of his factor 50. He's a good lad at heart but I'm not sure if he's captain material. Yes I'm internally boasting-it's my fourth tour I should be thinking about promotion by now. Why not I'm perfectly capable, I can prove my worth but damn Molly and her input about emotional involvement. I've always been good at shutting down that part on duty. I'm given a task, there are parameters. It's a job at the end of the day, I'm being paid to get it done. I'm looking more now at the people here as humans with their own lives and tales rather than faceless crowds. Maybe being part of the army family for so long has made me numb to everything. My emotional detachment now extending to my home life too. An army captain running away on tour with a failed marriage, leaving my soon to be ex-wife to pick up the pieces.

I watched the lads read their letters. Presents from mums and notes from girlfriends. I rarely get anything these days. The odd special delivery from my mum or an updated photo of Sam occasionally but it hasn't bothered me until recently. I looked at the lads differently, putting myself in their shoes and remembering when I used to pore over every word in a letter, desperate for someone to reach out to me and tell me what was happening in the real world. Now I'm so used to living out of a bag with permanent sand and dust in my hair and shoes I'm not sure which world is which anymore. I sat in the shade and closed my eyes. I got a vision of me reading a letter. Kind words, heartfelt sentiments, signed at the bottom from Molly which brought a smile to my face. Shit now I'm even daydreaming about her writing me letters, like there could be some sort of future between us. There can't be. She's my Private, I'm her Captain. Any kind of entanglement out here could put us all in jeopardy. I can't entertain the idea in the slightest. Annoyed with myself I grunted and walked towards the makeshift gym, having to channel my frustration into that instead.

X

My mood was not improved later and a forced impromptu tent inspection turned into a disaster. Everyone is grumpy now. Them at me and me at myself. I even heard someone muttering under their breath what a pair of lucky bastards Smurf and Molly were to be home this week. I'm like a bear with a sore head, I'd let my emotions get the better of me again although surprise inspections are path of the course so god knows why they are so shocked. Anyway I can't be their mate all the time.

Lucky bastards-are we talking of them as a pair now or on their own? Everyone seems to be implying that there's something going on between them, am I missing something? I was thinking we were forming some sort of connection, some spark. Maybe I'm old fashioned or more likely out of touch with the whole flirting thing. I haven't exactly got the best track record when it comes to women but my gut was telling me this was right despite all the potentially bad outcomes.

X

I've placated them now even though I've told them they're doing a 5K run at 06:00. Kinders has told me that the tent is better and everything appears to be in order despite their complaining. I witnessed Mansfield downing a pint of gravy tonight-how that boy is not constantly ill I have no idea. It at least brought me out from under the dark cloud I was hiding.

It's nearly lights out. The nights are so clear out here, the stars cover the vast blackness of the sky. The old nerdy part of me wants to point out all the constellations to anyone vaguely interested. I know Molly likes to look at them, I've seen her sneaking up onto the roof of the toilets of an evening. I know she can't see them where she is, the orange glow of the capitals lights obscuring natures beauty. I look at my watch and it's only early evening in the UK but I wonder what she's up to. Is she resting? Are her family making a fuss over her? Will she be so eager to come to me back as promised?

I awoke with a start. I'd just had an awful dream where Molly was fatally injured by that blast saving Smurf. I'd watched helplessly as blood flowed out quickly from a wound as her hand feebly reached for me. I could hear her whispers over the radio as she said my name. I took a swig of water to clear my dry throat. The panicked beat of my heart slowly subsided as I realised it never actually happened but it worried me none the less. I've witnessed trauma on tour in the past but it's different this time. Maybe because there's a woman involved. I ran my hand through my hair, feeling the familiar grime.

It was still early, about 5ish so not long before I roused the troops anyway. I splashed my face with some water and decided to change into my running gear. I wasn't planning on joining them last night but I'd ridden along with Kinders the last couple of times so decided I should find my inner squaddie again and pound the dirt with the rest.

X

Fair play, everyone gave their all this morning. I certainly wasn't the quickest so I really need to up my fitness levels. Glad we all finished before the sun had really got up as it sounds like it's going to be a scorcher today. Jackie has fitted in well with the group. Molly certainly didn't need to panic about her replacement but then she is right, she's not her. There appears to be some sort of Northern banter rivalry going on between her, Fingers and Brains over which has the best accent. Poor lovesick looking Dangles can't get a look in-not that I'm condoning he should do anything. I packed them off to the showers-nothing worse than hanging about in a tent with a bunch of stinky lads. I'll have mine later after I've checked this morning's reports.

X

A possible sighting of Sohail turns out to be bogus but all is still well at the mountain pass. I've also checked to make sure that Bashira is still safe and if there is any progress on capturing her father. Even though I'm pleased we've helped I have a feeling the situation is going to prove a problem later on. As much as I fear it, I'm still behind Molly and her actions.

I sneaked myself a bowl of Coco Pops for purely nostalgic reasons obviously, nothing at all to do with Molly. Honestly.

X

Oh my god it was so hot today, the paddling pool had to have another outing. I filled it myself as I'm not a total tyrant and expect everyone to do everything for me. I'm felt sorry for the guys on watch. Even though they have shade, the weight and thickness of the kit is unbearable. It's like being trapped in your own personal sauna-more uncomfortable than a space where you're stuck with those random fat guys who decide to totally strip off in front of you. The sweat gathers in your hair and runs into your eyes and down the back of your neck. The dampness on your back rolls down to the top of your trousers, wet patches everywhere. The guys relaxing though are just so comfortable with their "brothers in arms" they are just lying in their bunks stark bollock naked. When you're all fit guys and you spend so much time with each other there's nothing to hide. Obviously it's a bit more difficult for poor Jackie, though I'm sure Dangles would happily volunteer to stand and fan her if she asked!

I'm wondering what the weather is like back in the UK. I imagine it's grey and probably raining. I used to like running in the rain, washing all the cares and worries away. I've inadvertently rubbed my feet, my trainers having irritated my blisters but not enough to go and see Jackie. In some ways it would feel a betrayal to Molly if someone else took care of them. How sad my feet have even pledged allegiance to my medic.

My medic, it does have a nice ring to it. Makes me sound a right possessive bastard though. Hell maybe I am when it comes to her.

X

Has it only been two days since she'd been away? It feels like forever, time is just seeming to drag. It's late again and mercifully the temperature drop is remarkable. A mini scuffle between the overheated lads about a shared porn mag was the highlight of my dull day. It reminded me of being a kid where there was always that one lad who'd managed to sneak one out of his dad's stash to share round. I struggled not to laugh as I had to sort them out like a bunch of 12 year olds.

To be honest the thought of sharing porn with a group makes me feel a little ill but then I suppose being higher in rank I have a few more privileges as well as privacy. I don't even think there is anything filthy amongst my kit. It doesn't however stop my brain from conjuring up its own imaginings. I can see Molly's slender legs in those tiny shorts. Her t-shirt riding up just a little during those Olympic Games things. I imagine her flat stomach and how I could run my fingers down to that dip at her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin.

I'm getting hard just thinking about it, fuck I'm so screwed.

I've woken up to the biggest case of morning glory I've had in a long time. Erotic dreams of Molly and I, our limbs tangled together, the sweat a sheen on our bodies as we abandoned ourselves to the pleasure. I haven't got time to take care of myself and drift back into that temporary zone, especially as Kinders has already broken through into my consciousness reminding me of a meeting scheduled in about 30 minutes.

X

Not quite sure what to make of our meeting. Kinders and I were summoned to attend a conference call with the heads at Bastion. We're pulling out of our little FOB as apparently our job is done. Our mission was to make sure we brought peace and normality so that the children could go back to school. I can't really see what difference we've actually made especially when we know that Bashira's father, a known sympathiser is still at large which potentially means further instability. I'm sure that the lads won't mind as at least they've got the pizza delivery guy to sort their fast food cravings. We'll wait until Molly and Smurf come back so we can all move across as a unit. I suppose it does make sense that we are on the move. With Bashira's father out there we, or more specifically Molly are potential targets. Naturally I'm a bit more used to this and the idea of being under threat, this is after all what we have trained and prepared for. Molly being the primary focus however does frighten me. As much as I want her to come back to me, I also want to push her away so she isn't in danger. Have I caused this? Has being swapped into our section been a pivotal change? Is my favourite Lady Luck wavering these days?

X

I'm fuming again. I've just had to pack Mansfield off to see Jackie in the med tent. The dickhead was try to shave gangster nicks in his eyebrows and cut himself. I haven't got the true story but being them I'm sure some sort of prank is involved. I've punished them all with a latrine clean again which serves them right. Mansfield, a gangster from Derby, can't see it myself! I'm on watch this evening so I'm going to grab some shut eye whilst I can.

X

An uneventful night. Kinders is taking them all on another run tomorrow-further punishment from the eyebrow incident as no-one would own up. There's something about staring out into the desert and the mountains when the sun goes down. Seeing it through Molly's eyes you can see the beauty in the place as the orange hues highlight the edges and the horizon comes to life. The problem with being on watch however is that you are left to question your own thoughts and finally when it goes dark, how alone and vulnerable you feel. I'd wished at that moment she had been standing beside me-in a professional or personal capacity. I wanted nothing more than to watch that sun go down with her and enjoy a moment of complete stillness and calm. I wish my head was in that space now as my brain appears to be working overtime. I want to whisk us away to where it is just the two of us, our own bubble. No army, no warzone, just Molly and Charles as normal people in a civilian world. I've laughed out loud as that used to be one of my biggest fears, giving up the army but now the idea has popped into my head the lifestyle doesn't seem so bad a choice.

Hell why am I even thinking this, she doesn't even know my first name for fucks sake, let alone the fact that I come with almighty baggage of a pending divorce and my gorgeous Sam. I really should send him a letter or something-I can hear my mum nagging me.

Anyway how would we work? Me-private schooled, Sandhurst, officers club. Her-no school/school of hard knocks, London's East End, squaddie. Nope it's just ridiculous. I wish my brain would just shut up and let me sleep.

I'm so glad Kinders took that run this morning as it's given me the chance to lounge in bed for just a spell. I'm cocooned in my sleeping bag sweating buckets, mainly as it's been so hot but also because I've had more steamy dreams about Molly. Taking her hair out of her braid watching it softly cascade onto her shoulders. Her lips calling me. I could feel her warm skin, her eyes sparkling as she grins. I'm closing my eyes again just for five minutes.

X

This is mental, I'm jerking myself off daily now to made up snapshots of a woman I can't have. I know I have hormones like every other red blooded male and the prospect of constant blue balls is not a happy one for any man but I've never had this problem before. Mainly I suppose I'd turned off any sexual urges in my brain-it's not like Rebecca and I had much of a relationship in the bedroom department and I've definitely not done anything since I moved out. Molly has awoken feelings in me again that I thought I'd shut away.

No distractions makes me a more efficient soldier. It keeps me focused, gets my section in line and keeps my head clear to see the tasks ahead. I've even got Elton John constantly singing in my head. Don't go breaking my heart-it taunts me, both the memory of that night and the potential outcome it predicts.

X

Coffee, coffee my real true love and she has kicked my arse this morning good and proper. I've compartmentalised everything into a small corner of my head and hung a mental "do not disturb" sign there. I'm pushing all thought away. I'm in charge and I'm going to get on. I've drafted a to do list of all the things we need to get done before we go back to Bastion. I'm going to make Molly do a full medical inventory, the lads are going to sort all kit and weapons. I need the vallons checking and transportation organised. I need a debrief with Captain Azzizi, check in with Major Beck as to our next tasks as well as sort all my own shit out. I'm going to write Sam a letter tonight so I can get it sent as soon as I'm settled back in my portakabin. At least I can close the door there and shut out some of the noises and temporarily transport myself somewhere else for a little while. Best crack on. So much to do, so little time.

X

It's like working with a bunch of schoolkids this job sometimes. When you need people to listen and knuckle down they start to dick about. I'm sometimes so close to belting one of them round the ear before I have to breathe, count to ten and remember they are adults. That is pushing it sometimes though. I think about Molly's attitude when I first threatened to lob her out of the plane. Yeah she was a bit lippy and I wasn't sure if she could cut it but I'm glad she's proved me otherwise. Don't get me wrong I'm sure she's pushed me to my limits at times. Going up on that helicopter winch when I told her not to. She says she didn't hear me but I know that's total bollocks. Or putting herself at risk of getting red misted when Bashira had that explosive vest strapped to her. I literally shudder at the prospect at what could have happened. I know nothing did happen but that's not the point. If only they all knew how hard they actually make my job. Not that I have any idea what other job I could do bar this-I wouldn't have a clue where to begin to be honest.

Shifting from the FOB feels as if we've come to the end of the tour, even though we aren't there yet. Decompression can't come soon enough for me. Warm Cypriot sand and sea and a few beachside beers. Fuck, now I'm thinking about Molly in a bikini. Christ knows how I'm going to be able to sit about in swim shorts without pitching a tent. That said I'm Smurf will be in a similar position. I know they are apparently best mates but I've heard him with his little bits of "banter" to the lads. I've held my tongue as I know he's just sounding off to them but as a fellow platoon member he needs to show more respect. Listen to my green eyed monster! Come on Charles remember the mantra.

STAY FOCUSED, STAY ALERT, STAY ALIVE.

X

I finally managed to write my letter to Sam this evening. I've mentioned the weather, the people we've met and my ramblings about Pashto. I enclosed a small pinch of sand so he knows what my Bergen and shoes are full of! Obviously I've not mentioned anything bad and definitely no mention of a particular section member-that would be suicide especially as Rebecca will no doubt be reading over his shoulder. I've asked him to give Nanna and Granddad a hug from me and to be a good boy at school. I've even asked him to think about what he'd like for Christmas.

I love Christmas always have. Probably because I've spent so much time in sunny and sandy areas that cold weather, warm fires and copious amounts of hot chocolate is the total antithesis! Makes me sound a bit pathetic I know but when you're away all the time you have to take pleasure in all those little home comforts. I can't wait for some of my mum's fabulous cooking-if only she could package it up and send some out to me in a parcel.

I'll give all of this up one day. At least I'll get to spend some decent time with Sam. I do feel guilty about that sometimes at how much I've missed of his childhood. God knows if I'll ever get to do that again but I definitely do somethings differently if I had the chance.

Today is technically the fifth working day without our medic. As much as we love Jackie (Dangles most in particular) the other lads are missing the cockney chat and football chat. I'm certain she can swear but than any soldier I've known. I don't know if that's a compliment or a negative trait.

It's going to be another hot day today and I'm sure it's starting to fry some of their brains. Mansfield sounds like he's planning some final farewell big breakfast blow out to beat the sausage challenge before he leaves. I swear I'll be carting him back to the med tent for something to settle his stomach. It's made me wonder how much stuff they have to put in the med kit and supplies in case of any eventuality. I suppose you'll never know if you'll get Delhi belly from one week to the next. I've seen some sights on previous tours of guys who've ingratiated themselves with the locals and accepted their food offerings with genuine thanks only to run to the shitter the rest of the day and then whinge about why we don't have moist toilet tissue! Right time to get organised as we're on countdown. Everyone is assuming countdown is until we leave the FOB. My countdown is until Molly returns.

X

Everything is going well, rather too well and the cynic in me is waiting for something to go wrong. Injury, sickness or mechanical failure-in my mind I'm seeing mega sand storms that could leave us shut in for hours. But no nothing. I have no idea where this random sense of foreboding is coming from. This tour is turning into one almighty head fuck. Luckily being busy I've channelled all my frustrations into getting stuff done.

Nothing further on the incident at the mountain pass. I'm sure they've just chalked it up as green on green. I doubt the local army will even bother with an investigation. I must admit that that is one of the things that annoy me most is the poor interaction and capabilities of some of the forces and governments we work with. It's often disjointed or poorly managed and to be honest I'm not surprised considering the corruption no doubt and the poor volunteers and reserves who are then stuck doing the hard graft. If there is to be no official enquiry what happens about Rolex boy? Does he have family? Siblings? People who want to know how he died and who will be held accountable? I'm sure the eye for an eye adage would be popular but would you ever get the true answer you were seeking? When Smurf's brother got shot I was determined to take out the bastard that killed him. Maybe that's what makes the British Army the best. Always looking after their own.

X

As night falls once more we are about 90% done and ready for the off. I've just read over some of the rants I've written about in the past few days. I seem to have a lot of unanswered questions flying round me. I saw Qaseem earlier and he seems the sort of guy I could pour my heart out to. I'm sure he wouldn't judge and would probably have some sage advice for me. There's a man who's been through the ringer and who's experienced both the ultimate highs and low in life. Maybe I should talk to someone, I know I don't need a psychologist and I'm not suffering from any trauma or PTSD. I've seen guys who have and it makes my life look pretty easy. Maybe when I get back home I should have a proper chat with some mates. Elvis maybe but I'm not sure he takes life seriously enough for me. Maybe a heart to heart with my mum or dad. That's potentially embarrassing-hey dad I'm questioning my life in the army oh yeah and there's a girl I've met. I know they love me and I do value their opinions. Oh why can't life just be simple or ordered? I might struggle to sleep again after lights out. Damn ramblings.

I've awoken fairly rested today. No bad dreams and no naughty ones either. Maybe I've finally answered all those nagging doubts and questions. The smell of my coffee brewing has put one big grin on my face. I'm going to enjoy the last couple of days here I think. I might go to the makeshift gym before scoff and watch on with mixed joy and horror at Mansfield this morning.

X

My stomach has had the best workout in weeks. Not thanks to the gym but to Derby's finest speed eater contestant. Kinders and I were crying with laughter and wiping the tears from our eyes as he tried to see how many boiled eggs he could eat. Obviously the words "Cool Hand Luke" fell on deaf ears. They obviously don't watch the classic anymore or maybe they are just too young. He was doing well up to the halfway point but then the dry mouth kicked in and he started coughing and spluttering before complaining that his stomach was beginning to ache! I'm glad I'm not sharing a tent with him as he is going to be making some almighty smells. At least no medical intervention was required though I think I might prescribe him some fruit to get things moving again so to speak.

I've actually been so cheery I was singing in the shower and we practically had a mini choir going on. The lads have even commented that I seem to have a spring in my step. I have, it's called getting up, getting on and being thankful for what you have. No special potion. No special person.

X

My good mood has continued as I managed a spot of sunbathing-trying to get at least some part of my torso to catch up with the tan lines on my arms from my t-shirts! I know I shouldn't be lounging but we're up to speed and some down time is much appreciated.

The lads have been playing football with some of the other squads. Once again ridiculous arguments have ensued over which international team is best followed national rivalries. Brains' Liverpool vs Fingers' Man Utd, Mansfield's Derby vs Dangles' Aston Villa. Baz piped up representing West Ham for him and Molly in her absence and then they agreed if Smurf was there Newport County wouldn't count apparently as its non-league.

Football's not really my thing-real men play rugby! I should take Sammy to a game, he's probably old enough now. Some proper father/son time. I can cross another week off the calendar nearly. Another week under my belt and another step closer to going home. I paused looking at the day where Molly is due to return, fiddling with my pen as that feeling of restlessness has re-appeared. I can't wait for her to come back, to complete the team, so we can all go back to being normal. Team James.

X

Ok, having spent another day with the lads, I'm know that last thing I wrote is utter bollocks. I need her. I need her to come back to me. Yes we're missing people to complete the platoon but I feel I'm now missing a part of myself. I'm missing someone who might actually be in my corner and back me up. To be able to rinse the lads with witty one-liners better than my own. Fate must have thrown her into my lap (figuratively speaking of course but I wouldn't say no) for some reason. Even if it was just meant for me to turn her into an amazing soldier-because she totally has the capabilities to do so. Maybe she was meant to ignore my orders and save Smurf. Maybe she was meant to meet Bashira and help her. Fate has served me well in the past-why should I doubt it now?

Qaseem has mentioned to me that he likes Molly, that she has been the only one to seek him out, befriend him and ask about his life. That both saddens me-that the rest of my team can be so blinkered but also immensely proud at Molly's genuine earnest. It does clearly seem she has a way with the people and makes me want to re-evaluate some of my own thinking and behaviours.

She'll be getting her arse back on the plane soon, no doubt weighed down with a tonne of shite for the lads in her Bergen. Once again I've tried to tune out of the little bits of conversation I've overheard from them. Baz and Nudenut in particular seem to have it in their heads they've spent the whole week shagging each other. It's starting to make me angry and I know it's mainly because it's rude and plain hearsay but if it is the case I'm wanting to punch Smurf and soothe my jealousy wishing she was with me.

You really don't want to see me angry and jealous. Everyone will get the silent treatment and it's not a pretty sight. If I end up brooding on this it's going to take something big to snap me out of it.

What did I say about brooding? A restless night of sleep and I'm still brooding. I was making mental pros and cons lists in my head last night of me vs Smurf. What could she see in him over me? In my mind I out trump him in every way-education, knowledge, rank, money, and hell I'm even better looking! Now I write this it makes me sound like a total dick. If she chooses him over me-that's her loss. I'd be upset but I'd get over it. What would a private see in my anyway? Senior posh boy talking down her, pulling rank and being bossy. I know she respects me as her boss but I'm still just a man after all.

X

It's been confirmed they should return tomorrow, I've informed Jackie to let her know to pack and to have everything in place to do a handover back to Molly. She asked if I was alright. I've obviously got miserable arse written all over my face. I told her it was nothing a decent cup of coffee wouldn't sort out but I'm down to my last Rosabaya pod and I don't want to waste it if Molly has forgotten.

Would she forget? Her eyes looked truthful and honest when she said she would but maybe she was just saying that? Could she genuinely like me? Is she playing me off Smurf? Shit I'm getting myself mixed up into some weird love triangle. This could ruin things-tours, careers, lives. I've got to keep a lid on this.

X

I caught a glimpse of myself in my travel mirror and if I don't watch it that furrow on my brow will soon be permanent. I took a good look and noted the lack of confidence in my demeanour. If I don't snap out of this even Kinders is going to notice and will wonder if I'm struggling to cope. I can't mope about like a lovesick teenager anymore.

I think about the values and standards set down by the army. Drilled into me from day one and I'm forgetting them. I need to uphold the reputation of the army, the professionalism, the self-discipline. Morals, ethic and principles. To keep up morale, to give confidence to troops in regard to kit, training and administration. Phrases such as "courage, fortitude and loyalty" spring to mind. Respect for others-both soldier and enemy and those we have been sent to help.

Appropriate behaviour, well there's a difficult one looking at myself in particular. Although nothing has actually happened the consequences if anything did are far too great. The word "misconduct" looms over me. I must set the example, resume high standards and complete my obligations.

Trust-another strong word. I am entrusted with my soldiers lives and they must trust me implicitly also. I am breaching their trust just even thinking about Molly. I know I'm berating myself but if I don't have this frank conversation with myself who knows where it might lead. If someone could slap me right know I'd be glad of it.

X

I'm sorting myself a timeline so things can progress smoothly and clearly and at least give the lads a heads up so we have some semblance of order. I've called them all to the Ops tent for a briefing this afternoon. Kinders seemed to approve so Im at least appearing to look vaguely commanding on the surface. I'm trying to repeat the British Army mantra "Be the Best" and I must. I'm off to see Azzizi now for our final meeting.

X

I have my notes from my chat with Azzizi to present later. I've decided I'm going to miss drinking the chai especially as you can't get it at Bastion. I've got a vision of Sohail refusing to make to make one for Molly. He never did appear to be in the best mood, determined our presence had hindered the local community rather than helped. There's been no word or sighting of him. The longer is stays that way the more likely it seems he may have been in league with the Taliban after all. Money can easily buy allegiances here.

Things are winding down for us now but who knows what we'll be doing when we get back to Bastion. I've heard no word since from Major Beck but a feeling in my gut tells me something big is about to kick off. Another reason to keep my shit together. If we are to enter the theatre of war I need to be focused and ready.

X

I'm amazed! They actually all sat up and paid attention as I laid out the schedule. They are on sentry duty tomorrow-just about the time that Molly and Smurf are due to return. They must pack their kit and then be ready to leave by 05:00 the following morning for the road transportation that will take us on our last tour of the village. The grins on their faces when they heard me confirm our wanderers are all set to come back, maybe I'm not so mad after all and they have truly missed them as much as I have.

I've reminded them that even though operations for us are ceasing here, that we are still on duty and even when travelling are a visual representation of the army. I looked at some of them and advised a few needed a good shave and a decent haircut. No doubt they will all be running around with the clippers. I need a decent haircut myself but I'm not going to let just anyone loose on the James curls! I'll wait until I get home and make an appointment with my regular barber.

X

So we've eaten our penultimate meal here at the FOB. It's been nice to be seconded out as a smaller group. It's been far more personal and easier to socialise amongst the other platoons. I looked over at the groups eating and watched the camaraderie between them all. Age, race, religion-everyone mucks in and is treated equally. I did laugh and it made me smile, reminding me of my first tour and the lads I worked with. I do miss those days sometimes-life was far simpler. They were the days before Rebecca and Sam (not that I'd trade him for anything) and before I had any responsibility for other soldiers welfare, just my own and my buddies in the section.

My captain was a bit old school-the "treat em mean, keep em keen" type. As much as discipline is required, there were times where he was over the top. I always swore to myself that if I ever rose through the ranks, I'd do it differently.

Here I am sometimes wondering how I ended up with the shower of shite that is 2 Section. They aren't all bad really but not the brightest. Maybe my knack is taking these raw ones and finding that little bit of potential, that one spark they have and encourage them to flourish. Maybe those in higher command saw this quality in me that maybe I couldn't see?

It's another clear night tonight. I'll be staring out into it again tomorrow when I'm on evening watch. It'll be nice to see the sun go down on our last evening-a fitting end to what so far has been a reasonably successful tour. Plus of course Molly will have returned by then. I kind of feel like a kid on Christmas Eve-overly excited for the morning ahead. Sadly no gifts to unwrap, no lie in or massive feast to gorge on.

A bit like the end of Christmas we will all be doing our farewells and goodbyes. I promised to have breakfast with Azzizi tomorrow, a last early morning together. He's done well with poor resources they have and I'm sure they've suffered more casualties on their side than ours. Who knows if we'll get to work together again? The afghan situation is so complicated I still can't work out how or when we will ever pull out completely.

I'd introduce him to the pleasures of my coffee tomorrow if I had any left! I'll just sit back and enjoy the chai instead I think!

Azzizi and I enjoyed some rare peace this morning. Breakfast was a leisurely unhurried and uninterrupted affair. I was glad of it as not only did the quiet chill me out but also cleared my head. I've woken with the jitters. I'm nervous today-me nervous! I'm not sure how I'm going to handle today at all. I'm either going to be happy and relaxed and just go with the flow of our final day-our section back together and all ready to move onto the next phase of our tour. Alternatively I'll see Molly and moon like an idiot or see her with Smurf and see red. I'm not sure I can actually prepare myself until the event arises and I see her/them with my own eyes. Come on James pull yourself together for god's sake

X

I've been pacing like an idiot. I'm going to be digging a hole in the floor soon enough. I keep checking my watch-time is going so slowly. Fuck this is torture.

X

I think I can hear a helicopter approaching.

X

I've quickly stuck my head out and we've definitely got incoming. Ok breathe James breathe, be professional. Oh fuck it who cares-SHE'S BACK! She's come back to me and I'm grinning like a Cheshire cat. I'm going out to be blinded by more flying dust but who cares my favourite medic can always administer me more eye drops!

* * *

 **I hope everyone is enjoying the new series so far-can't believe the first four episodes are nearly all over already! I hope you enjoyed this, I did and loved being back in Captain James' head. Chapter 40 of "I want you to be Brilliant" is half written by the way I promise it'll hit the screens before Christmas!**


	5. Chapter 5: Everybody Hurts

_A huge_ Merci _to all those appreciative readers who reviewed, favourited, followed and fantasised about Captain James taking care of himself in_ jpcrafty's _polished fic_ Captain James' Diary _. We certainly enjoyed it at Miniature Towers!_

 _This week our writer is the popular_ SA85 _, who has been delighting us all with her excellent fic_ Something Worth Saving. _Not only does she write persuasively about our favourite couple Molly and Charles, but she also writes beautifully about Georgie and Elvis. Tonight Georgie and Elvis fans are in for a treat with a heart wrenching one shot about Elvis' last moments._

* * *

 **EVERYBODY HURTS**

 **by**

 **SA85**

"No,no,no, please god no". She screamed.

"Georgie he's gone". Charles could barely get the words out, he felt like once he said it then it was really happening.

"No...no he isn't." Her hands were shaking. "I need to bag him. Please, Elvis don't do this. Don't fucking do this to me" She was pounding his chest, trying to do chest compressions and find a pulse.

She felt the arms dragging her away from him.

"Get off me. I have to help him" she sobbed as she tried to struggle free.

"Georgie. We need to clear the area. We don't know if there's any more bombs, or insurgents. We have to take cover" he pleaded frantically as he desperately tried to hold on to her.

"No. I'm not leaving him." She yelled.

"Georgie. He's dead". He said firmly. Words he couldn't actually believe he was saying.

She collapsed against the weight of his arms. "We can't leave him" she sobbed

"We won't. But right now we need to move". He ordered as he dragged her away

….

 **Georgie**

She didn't remember how she'd got there, but she was now sitting in the back of the truck. The only sound was the rumbling of the engine as they travelled along the bumpy roads. Everything else was silent. No one wanted to speak. Which she was grateful for, one stupid little comment from Richards and she would've killed her there and then. Her brain was struggling to comprehend what had just happened. She looked down at her hands. They were shaking and covered in blood.

Everyone sat solemnly staring ahead. Trying to get their own thoughts in order and trying to erase the images and memories that seemed to be playing on a constant loop in their heads. Was it really only a few short hours ago they'd all been sitting there laughing and joking? It felt like a lifetime. She searched the faces of her section, they all had the same look of shock and confusion. This had to be a dream. It couldn't be reality. She was waiting for someone to tell her it was a joke. For him to pop up from the front of the truck and shout surprise. He couldn't be dead. He just couldn't be.

But he was. She'd had to be prised away from his limp, broken body. She'd watched them load him into the truck in a body bag. It didn't seem real though. She felt like she was an outsider looking in on her own life.

As the truck approached the security gates of the base she was vaguely aware of Captain James talking to them.

"Guys listen in, when we stop I want us all to head to the hangar for a debrief please". His tone was somber. He couldn't quite understand either what had just happened. How had this mission just gone so spectacularly wrong. He knew his men needed him. He knew he needed to give them some words of wisdom and comfort. But right now all he could think about, was seeing his best friend blown off the top of a building. He hoped some words came to him in the next few minutes because right now he was at a loss as to what to say to them.

The truck couldn't come to a stop soon enough. Her ears were still ringing from the explosion and her lungs were burning. She jumped down from the truck. She felt sick and was struggling to breathe making her think she might pass out. She started clawing at her neck trying to loosen her clothes. Anything to get air into her lungs.

She started walking quickly across the base, blocking out the shouts from her section in the process. She wasn't sure where she was going, the base wasn't exactly big but she needed to be alone. To get space between her and everyone else, before she completely fell apart and they all ended up with front row seats.

As she rounded the corner out of sight she broke into a run, not stopping until her legs gave way and her lungs hurt, collapsing onto the floor shaking. She could feel the lump rising in her throat and she thought she might vomit. But instead she screamed. To anyone else the scream wouldn't have seemed human, and even to her own ears it felt foreign. Then she felt the first tear fall down her face and once that tear broke free the rest followed in an unbroken stream as she let the grief wash over her.

…

 **Charles**

He stood in the tent waiting for the section to assemble. Normally he would have been shouting at them to get a move on but he wasn't in any mood to rush them. Quite frankly the longer they took, the better. He still wasn't sure what to say to them.

He glanced over to check that they were actually making their way towards him when he caught sight of the truck that held Elvis' body. He watched as they carefully unloaded him. Spanner and Peanut, along with four Afghan soldiers carefully lowered him down and started to make their way to morgue. He felt the wave of nausea crash over him again and had to fight to swallow down the lump that was forming in this throat.

He was brought back to the present by the shout of "Attention" from King, as the guys trudged in front of him and lined up.

"Stand down lads" he muttered. He wasn't in the mood for formalities.

He stood looking at their tear stained faces. Each one of them a mixture of sadness, shock and confusion. They were looking at him expectantly. Hoping he'd say something to put their minds at ease but right now he was at a loss as to what to say that would comfort them. He felt numb. He couldn't believe what had just happened. How was Elvis dead? How could he comfort them when he knew this mission was fucked from the beginning. How could he tell them it was all going to be ok and it was all worth it when he wasn't even sure if he believed that anymore. Despite that though he had to separate personal and professional. He was always the one that said don't bring personal into the battlefield. He tugged at the curls at the back of his neck which allowed him a precious few seconds to put his own thoughts to the back of his mind, took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

"This mission, I think we can all agree, has been a nightmare from day one. We try and do our best and unfortunately, sometimes, it's just not enough. That being said though, I couldn't have asked for more on that operation. You gave everything. You're all fine soldiers and i'm incredibly proud of each and every one of you." He paused a second to regain his composure. "It's never easy losing a comrade. It's something you prepare for but never think will happen. With our job, death is always round the corner, always on our minds. We put ourselves in danger everyday but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with. I realise, that this might be the first time some of you have ever witnessed anything like this so please, if you feel you need to talk about it, come and find myself or King"

His voice started to crack. He wanted to say something, anything to rally them but his brain felt like a fog had descended on it. He just didn't have the words they needed. He knew exactly what he needed, and it wasn't to be stood in a tent faced with four devastated squaddies.

He looked over to King and caught his eye, jerking his head slightly signalling that he wanted a word with him.

They walked a little away from the lads. "Can you finish off please. I need to speak to the Major, and I'm gonna go and find Georgie. I'm worried about her."

King gave a small nod and smiled sympathetically to show he understood. "Sure thing boss". He new it was a front and that he needed some time to grieve in private. Charles just gave a small nod in return as he walked out the tent. He knew the lads were in capable hands with King. He'd definitely have more words of wisdom for them than him right now.

"Fellas, what we've just witnessed, well it's not easy to get your head round. No one would blame you if you're a bit fragged by it all. As Captain James said if any of you need to speak about what happened we have people here you can talk to. Now, I'd like you all to take some time out, recharge and try and come to terms with what happened. I know Elvis wasn't part of our section but it's still a shock when you lose one of your own" King finished.

"Sir"

"Yes Richards?"

"Is Georgie gonna be ok. I'm worried about her. She's not said a word since it happened". Maise knew her and Georgie hadn't seen eye to eye for the majority of this tour but she was genuinely concerned for her. Losing your fiancé like that was horrendous enough, having to witness it and knowing you could do nothing to help, well it didn't even really bear thinking about.

King wasn't entirely sure how to answer. He'd known Lane for a good few years now and he knew the history with Elvis. She was a great soldier and as a medic she would have lost a fair few people in her charge. There'd already been a few on this mission and it was par for the course but Elvis, well Elvis was different. Watching your fiancé die in front of you had to have an effect. And if he was being honest he was concerned for both Georgie and Captain James, who definitely hadn't been himself this whole tour, even before this had happened.

"She needs some time to process and grieve Richards, we all do" he sighed. "So let's give her a bit of space yeah? If you need anything urgent come and find me. Now double away. Go and get yourselves showered and changed"

"Sir" they all chanted in unison, as they turned and trudged off towards the sleeping quarters.

…

 **Charles**

Charles strode quickly to his room. He wanted to be alone. He was struggling to keep his emotions in check. As soon as the door was closed he dumped his Bergen on the floor and threw his helmet against the wall. The anger that had been bottled up inside him for hours, now screaming to be released. He started pacing the room massaging the back of his neck. How the fuck did this happen?

The one person in the world he wanted to speak to wasn't here. He needed to be in her arms and hear her voice. She'd hold him and soothe him and tell him it would all be ok.

He sat down at the desk, got out his iPad and pressed call, desperately willing it to connect. The sound of it ringing out was deafening Where was she? He glanced at his watch. It was 6:30pm in Afghan. Which meant it was 11:00pm in the U.K. She was probably asleep. His heart sank the longer she didn't answer and he was just about to hang up when it connected.

There she was. Her beautiful face flooded the screen. He allowed himself to smile. His heart felt like it might burst.

"Well if it isn't my handsome husband. Sorry it took me a while to answer" she yawned. "I was half asleep. I've had a shit day running a tough PT session for a bunch of squaddies because they didn't have clue what I was talking about and were generally prattin' about. Fought' it was a good idea at the time, forgot I'd have to go with them" she said giggling as she rubbed her eyes to try and wake herself up and remove the sleep that had started to form.

"I'm really glad you called. I've missed you" She said with a small smile. She knew he'd now been deployed to Afghan on some covert mission with Elvis. He'd not gone into the specifics, although he had called and told her about azizi and how everything went to shit in the compound. She'd not spoken to him in the last 24 hours though so she was getting a little worried. The relief when she saw the screen light up with his name was undeniable.

Charles couldn't help it. Seeing her just made him realise how much he missed her and how much he needed her. He tried to hold it back but the emotion was too close to the surface and he couldn't stop the tears from falling from his eyes.

All Molly could do was watch as he fell apart on the screen in front of her. Her happiness at him ringing was quickly replaced with worry "Charles what's wrong. What's happened?" She said alarmed. This wasn't like Charles at all. He very rarely cried. In fact she could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen him cry.

"It's all gone to shit Molls. This whole operation. Everything. It was fucked from day one. He's gone. I can't believe it he's fucking gone"

"Who? Charles you're scarin' me now. Who's gone? What's goin' on?" She said panicked.

"Elvis. He's dead Molls. Elvis is dead". He managed to choke out.

Mollys mouth flew open in shock. Did she just hear right. Did her husband just say Elvis was dead?!

"What...what happened?" she stuttered as she stared at him in shock. It's all she could muster to say. Her brain was struggling to take in what he'd just said.

He looked down at his hands to avoid looking at her. It was too painful. He didn't think he'd be able to get the words out if he looked her in the eye. But he knew he needed to tell Molly what happened. His voice was thick with emotion as he struggled to recall the events of the last few hours.

"It was a mission with special forces. It was a last minute thing. After the op fucked up the other day they got some new Intel on where the guy was holed up. We weren't even supposed to be there Molls. If azizzi hadn't betrayed us the other day, we wouldn't have been there". He banged his fist on the table. "He fucking caused this".

She stared at him, wondering whether he was going to continue. When it became clear he wasn't, she gave him a gentle prompt. "Charles, go on" she said softly. She needed him to continue and to focus. She needed to know what happened.

He finally lifted his eyes to look at her. He looked so broken. She just wanted to reach through the screen and give him a hug, but she couldn't. She was thousands of miles away and it was breaking her heart that she couldn't comfort him.

"They must have been waiting for us. There must have been another mole. I don't know. We were ambushed the second we got there. They shot up the ANA truck. Nine dead. It's sheer luck our vehicle wasn't in front. We only just got out alive." He seemed as if he was in a trance. He was looking at her, but she wasn't really sure if he saw her. "We started clearing the compound, the usual drill, then Elvis and the lads appeared. They started taking out insurgents. I don't really know what happened next. We were moving through the compound checking it was clear. Elvis must have gone up to the roof. The next thing we hear on the radio is Elvis saying there's a suspected IED, then there was an explosion...and…. and... Elvis went flying off the building. He didn't even stand a chance. I saw him killed right in front of me Molls. I can't get the image out of my head. I keep seeing it on repeat. And Georgie. She saw it all too. She tried to save him. There was nothing we could do though, he was dead before we even got to him. I had to drag her away." He felt like a weight had been lifted off him, saying it out loud, but his sobs were coming thick and fast now. He wiped his eyes to try and compose himself but weeks of pent up emotion spilled out and the more he tried to stop, the more the tears fell.

"Oh my god Charles. I'm so sorry baby, I'm so sorry. " Tears were flowing from her own eyes now. She sat shell shocked by what he'd just told her. She knew that probably wasn't everything. She guessed he might have glossed over some of the finer details of the operation to spare her but even with the edited version she could picture it as if she'd been there. And her heart broke for Charles, and for Georgie. And the lads who'd had to witness it. More than anything she just wanted to reach out and give him a hug. Hold him in her arms and smooth his hair and tell him everything would be ok.

He choked back the tears "Do you know what it brought back memories of?"

She had a good idea but she didn't like to say. She shook her head "No, what?"

"You. When you got blown up in that minefield. Those few seconds when you didn't speak, and waiting to hear your voice through the radio, I thought my heart was actually going to stop. Then you spoke and said you were ok. But this time Elvis didn't speak. He never got back up Molls. He's gone. How can he be gone?" He looked so forlorn.

Charles put his head on the desk and sobbed into his arm. He wanted to be anywhere but in sodding Afghan right now. Molly felt completely helpless. There was nothing she could do to console him. The thought of him still out there made her sick to her stomach. She was hoping that the mission was over and he'd be coming home.

"I'm done Molls. I'm fucking done. I've lost too many people in Afghan. I can't do this anymore" he mumbled, his voice cracking.

She knew he needed to let it out. In his position it was tough. He couldn't show his grief to the lads. He had to be brave, strong, authoritative - the person they could rely on to help them all through this. But in the privacy of his room, on the phone to his wife, he allowed himself to cry and let his grief out.

She touched her hand to the screen, he did the same. It was the closest thing she could do to comfort him, even if it was nowhere near enough.

"What am I meant to say to Georgie Molls? How am I meant to console her?" He implored. He needed advice and he was hoping his wife would give him some. "I know nothing I say is going to make any difference, but I dunno I feel like Elvis would want me to… you know, make sure she's okay? Well as okay as she can be?"

Honestly Molly had no clue. She was struggling to comprehend that Elvis was dead. She wasn't his biggest fan but they'd come to a comfortable friendship and he was Charles' best friend. She knew this would devastate him. From some of the conversations she'd already had with him she knew his emotional state was fragile. Not like the Charles she knew and loved so she was genuinely worried about what news of his best friend's death would do to him.

"How is Georgie?"

"I don't know. She ran off when we got back to the base and I can't even go after her. What am I meant to say to her? I couldn't even give the guys some comfort" he said dejectedly. The tears appeared to have stopped, for now.

"Everyone deals with grief differently. Right now she'll probably be in shock so there's not a lot you can do. Just listen to her. She'll talk and open up when she's ready. She'll just appreciate you being there for her. I so wish I could be there for you both. I feel so helpless sat here thousands of miles away" she said sadly.

"I wouldn't want you out here Molls. I can't wait to leave this god forsaken country"

"Any news of when you'll be coming home?" She asked, hopeful that he'd say right away

"I think we have to go back to Nepal and finish up. Hopefully not too long though. Two weeks max i'd say." He managed a small smile as he thought of being reunited with his wife. " Look, I better go and find Georgie and check on everyone else. I'm not exactly being a good captain hiding in my room am I?" He groaned. He wasn't looking forward to the prospect of going finding Georgie.

"I love you" she added

"Ditto"

"Stay safe, and come back to me". She demanded.

"I will do". He kissed his fingers and touched them to her lips on the screen before he hung up. He stared at the blank screen for a few seconds before he wiped his hands over his face, gave his head a little shake and put his game face on. He didn't think he'd even begun to scratch the surface on his grief but having a cry with Molly helped enormously. He at least felt like he might be able to hold it together long enough to do his job for a little while. He had to check the rest of the section were ok and get them all home in one piece. He had time to worry about himself later.

 **…** **...**

 **Georgie**

She made her way back to the sleeping quarters and found herself staring at her reflection in the mirror in the shower block. She didn't recognize the person staring back at her. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face was blotchy and a mix of dried tears, snot and dirt and there was a permanent lump in her throat that made her feel like vomiting was only a few short breaths away. She glanced down at her hands and her clothes. They were covered in blood. Not her blood, maybe not even Elvis'. She couldn't be sure. It all happened so quickly. One minute she was treating the injured ANA soldiers, the next she was trying to revive Elvis. The memory came crashing back into her brain, and felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. She felt the wave of nausea wash over her, and she couldn't control the urge to vomit any longer.

She looked down at the blood stained clothes. They felt like they were seared to her skin. She clawed at them trying to get them off. She could feel the beginnings of a panic attack coming on. She couldn't get them off quick enough. Finally, after what felt like an eternity she was free of them. She dove into the shower and stood under the steady stream of water. She turned the temperature to scalding (or as hot as it would go, the showers weren't exactly amazing in Afghan). She wanted it to burn. She wanted to feel something…anything other than what she felt now, which was numb. She started to scrub her hands. She wanted to wash every trace of the day away. No matter how hard she tried every time she looked down she felt like they were still covered in blood. She scrubbed until they were raw and the water was running red. She wasn't actually sure if it was Elvis' blood she was washing away or her own at this point.

She slid down the wall of the shower until she was sitting on the floor, legs curled up to her chest hugging herself. As the water washed over her she began to cry again.

How could he die? It was Elvis. Her knight in shining armour. Always there to save the day. Indestructible. Except he wasn't. His broken and bloodied body was a testament to that.

Why was he even up there? Why didn't he run? Why didn't he ask for the signal to be blocked? Give himself a chance. There were too many questions that she was never going to get the answers too. She was angry, she wanted the answers to her questions but he'd gone and fucking left her and she'd never know. She would soon come to realise that she'd torture herself with the what ifs and whys of the situation for a long time to come.

The water had long stopped being hot and was now freezing cold. She had no idea how long she'd been in the shower. She knew she was shivering but she couldn't move. She just sat hugging herself, staring into space. Which is where Maisie found her.

"Georgie" she ventured softly, after a few moments of awkward hesitation. She didn't want to startle her.

She turned her head a fraction, blinked back the tears and looked at her. Maisie wasn't sure if she actually saw her or was looking right through her.

"Hey. Come on. Let's get you dry and dressed" she suggested as she pulled her to her feet and handed her a towel and fresh clothes.

She gently pushed her forwards into one of the bedrooms. She'd arranged with King for a private room for Georgie saying the last thing she needed was all the lads gawping at her wondering if she was ok or if she was gonna break down in tears. Luckily he'd agreed with her, and even commended her for being so thoughtful. Something she never thought she'd hear.

Georgie sat down on the bed and glanced around the room, a small frown crossing her face. "This isn't the bedroom" she croaked out. Her voice was hoarse from crying so much.

"I've got you a private room. Thought you could do with a break from those twats" she said smiling. "Think it could rival the Ritz don't you?" She joked.

Georgie gave her a grateful smile "Thanks Maisie"

"Come on. Get dressed before you freeze to death". She grimaced and cursed herself as soon as the words left her mouth. She had a right gob on her sometimes. She couldn't believe she'd just said something so insensitive. She glanced at Georgie who either hadn't heard her or was choosing to ignore her. Something she was grateful for.

As Georgie got herself dressed Maisie continued talking. She hated uncomfortable silences and tended to talk a lot when she was nervous. Georgie didn't seem to mind though and Maisie wasn't even sure if she was really listening.

"I've brought you some food too. You missed out earlier"

"I'm not hungry" Georgie muttered.

"I know but you need to eat". God when did she start sounding like the responsible one.

Georgie sat back down on the bed.

"I know it's shit what you're going through Georgie and I know there's nothing I can say to make it better but we're all here for you yeah. You ain't on you own, you know...if you wanna talk or anything" Maisie finished, looking at her mentor uncomfortably. This wasn't the sort of situation her training had prepared her for.

Georgie smiled at her gratefully. "I know. Thanks Maisie". Georgie knew her and Maisie hadn't exactly seen eye to eye and god knows the girl wound her up no end but she was grateful she came and found her. She probably would have sat in the shower all night otherwise.

Maisie stood up, "I'm gonna go and leave you to it but just shout if you want anything"

Georgie didn't respond. She just sat on the bed staring into space as Maisie closed the door behind her.

…

 **Charles and Georgie**.

She was still sat on the bed in the exact same position Maisie had left her in 20 minutes earlier, when there was a knock on the door and Captain James entered.

She glanced up to look at him, subconsciously playing with the engagement ring that hung on her dog tags around her neck. She thought she was done crying but as soon as she saw his face she broke down. "I can't even talk about it" she sobbed.

He thought ringing Molly would have given him the outlet he needed for his own grief. He'd told himself that he'd only allow himself to cry in the comfort of his own room, in front of Molly. Because back out on the base he had to be the Captain and the one who rallied them and gave them the strength to get through the loss of a comrade, no matter how painful it was for him personally.

But the second he looked at Georgie he felt the tears spring to his eyes. She looked broken. And it broke his heart. He couldn't imagine sitting in her place if it had been Molly that had died. He had no clue what words would comfort him if the situation was reversed. She looked so vulnerable. He went and sat on the bed and put an arm round her, pulling her into a hug as she cried into his chest. And in that moment he allowed his own tears to fall as they wallowed in their shared grief.

It didn't matter that he was her Captain and that she was in his chain of command, in that moment they were just two friends who had lost a loved one.

As the tears subsided she pulled away from his chest and wiped her eyes and nose on her sleeve.

"I'm sorry" she sighed

"For what?" He asked confused. He couldn't think what on earth she had to be sorry for.

"Not saving him. I'm a medic and I couldn't save him" she said as she put her head in her hands.

He looked at her in amazement. He couldn't believe she blamed herself "Georgie, don't do this to yourself. There's absolutely nothing you could have done to save him. There's nothing anyone could have done. Elvis knew the risks going onto that roof. You're a bloody good medic and don't ever forget it" he said tenderly

She smiled at him gratefully.

"It's just so unfair. I can't believe he's gone. There's so many things I should have said and done. Why didn't I forgive him sooner? I love him. I always have, even after everything he did. I wanted to punish him though for hurting me. I wanted him to feel pain like I did but all I've done is end up punishing myself. I could have spent the last two years being happy with him instead of the last 2 minutes. What am I meant to do now without him boss?" She said sadly, her voice cracking. He wasn't sure if she was genuinely asking him or just putting the question out there.

He wiped his own eyes and took a second to compose himself. He really wasn't sure what to say. He didn't want to send her over the edge even further but he knew she needed some form of comfort.

"Georgie listen to me. Despite what happened with you and Elvis he knew you loved him. Even before yesterday. Don't ask me how. But he knew. Whenever we spoke he always said you were more than friends and it would never be simple between the pair of you. Honestly, I think he quite liked the challenge. Even when you were fighting like cat and dog he was adamant that you'd be together". He allowed a small smile to cross his face as he thought of some of the conversations they'd had. "I've known, well I knew" he corrected himself, "Elvis a bloody long time and I'd never known him to feel about anyone the way he felt about you. There was never anyone else for him. It was always you" he paused a little whilst he thought about what he wanted to say next.

"He died doing what he loved. And most importantly he died in love. And that's very special. He died happy because he knew you still loved him and he'd got you back. You know Elvis, he wouldn't want you to be sad. He'd want you to embrace life. He'll never be completely gone. He will live on inside of you, he'll live on inside all of us" he finished quietly.

He wasn't even sure if what he'd just said made sense, or was even a comfort to her but she gave him a small smile in appreciation nevertheless.

There was a knock on the door. "Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt but I wondered if you had a minute?" It was King.

Charles didn't say anything immediately, he just looked at Georgie. He didn't really want to leave her. That might have been more for selfish reasons though. He knew that behind this door he was able to let his own grief out. As soon as he stepped outside his walls would be up and he'd have to put it to the back of his mind. Especially if he wanted to complete the mission and make sure they all got home in one piece.

"Georgie I'm sorry I've got to ….."

She cut him off. "Go. It's ok. I'm fine, really"

"Are you sure?" He asked concerned.

Georgie wiped her eyes and took a deep breath

"Honestly I'm fine. You didn't even need to come and find me. But…..I'm grateful that you did. Thank you"

"I want you to try and get some sleep" he said gently.

"I'm fine boss"

"It's not a request Lane. It's an order. You look exhausted." He wished he could say more, do more even but he had responsibilities that he had to go and deal with, no matter how much he might not have really wanted to. He gave her a sympathetic smile as he closed the door behind him.

She lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. Her whole body ached and it felt like she'd been hit by a truck. She was willing sleep to come, but every time she closed her eyes she saw his face. She was pretty certain the image would haunt her for a lifetime.

…

 **The day after**

There was a small moment when she woke up where she forgot the horrors of the day before. Where she thought it was all just a bad dream and she'd actually woken up in Elvis' bed like the previous morning. Then she looked down at the dog tags round her neck and saw the engagement ring, then it hit her. She wasn't engaged, there would be no wedding, no happily ever after and it was just as painful as if it happened all over again. She closed her eyes tight to try and forget but all she saw was Elvis's burned and bloodied face. He eyes flew open and her breath caught in her throat. She felt like hands were round her throat strangling her and she struggled to breath. Then the tears started again. She'd cried so much over the last 24 hours she almost wasn't aware when she was doing it. But she could feel the hot tears as they rolled down her cheeks and the saltiness as they splashed her lips and no matter how much she tried to stop, it didn't work, she just cried harder, remembering that a future with Elvis was no longer possible.

And she knew it was irrational. They'd only been back together for a very short time before he was cruelly taken away from her. But it was like the saying goes, you don't know what you've got until it's gone. She regretted all the time she spent hating him. Why was she so stubborn? She loved him. She always had. Even after everything he'd done that love had never gone away. Not really. She'd buried it, deep down, to protect herself from being hurt, although a fat lotta good that did, but truly she'd always known he was the love of her life. Fate was cruel. But then she should have expected it. Their job wasn't easy, his especially. Death was always round the corner. And, she was the one who said she didn't want him to give it all up for her. But it didn't make the pain any more bearable.

The images were playing on a loop in her head, no matter how hard she tried to think of literally anything else. She just kept seeing him being blown from the building, and lying there broken and lifeless. She'd seen dead bodies before, but this, this was different. She felt guilty, and powerless that there was absolutely nothing she could have done to save him. She was torturing herself with what ifs and the fact they shouldn't have even been there. Would this have happened if Azizi hadn't betrayed them back in Omar's compound? If the original operation had gone to plan this might not have happened. Elvis might still be alive.

And she was angry. Angry that they'd taken away the love of her life. That they'd robbed a little girl of her father. And for what? What had they actually achieved. Omar was still on the run, as was De chand. Fara was missing, wandering the streets of Pakistan with god knows who. They hadn't solved anything. They'd lost 12 ANA soldiers, 1 of their own and 2 of the section had injuries. One last mission is what Elvis had said. Well fuck the one last mission. She could feel the nausea rising inside her again.

She bolted out of the room, she needed some fresh air. Walking out into the Afghan sun she took a deep breath and let the warm air wash over her. It was only 6am but the heat was still stifling. She started walking aimlessly across the base. She wasn't sure where she was headed too but when she looked up a few minutes later she found herself stood outside Elvis' room. Her hand hovered over the door handle, unsure whether she wanted to enter or not. But her brain was on autopilot and before she had a chance to decide whether it was a good idea she found she'd turned the handle and was stood inside the room with the door closed behind her. She went and sat on the bed. She couldn't believe yesterday morning she'd woken up in this bed, with Elvis. How could things be so different in 24 hours?

She glanced around the room. It was devoid of anything personal. The only reminder he'd been there was the crumpled sheets on the bed, some papers on the desk and his kit bag in the corner. It was surreal that his stuff was there but he wasn't.

She wandered over to the desk and flicked through the papers on his desk. Other than a few letters it was nothing of any major importance, then she came across the bundle of photos. The first picture that was staring up at her was of a little girl. She had big brown eyes and long shiny brown hair. _Laura._ Georgie just stared at the picture. She was gorgeous. A total mini Elvis.

She thumbed through them carefully. She felt like she was intruding on his life. There were more of Laura, some of his parents then she froze. There was a picture of her and Elvis. It was from their engagement party. It used to be one of her favourite pictures of the two of them. They didn't even know it had been taken. They were snuggled into each other. Elvis was kissing her hair as she leant into him. She had the biggest smile on her face. She could feel the tears stinging her eyes, threatening to spill over once more. She thumbed through the rest of the pictures. There were more of her and Elvis, around 20 in total. She couldn't believe Elvis took pictures of her on tour with him. Clutching them to her chest she let the tears springfree and fall down her cheeks.

She cried for the moments they wouldn't share together, how there'd never be any new pictures of them and how this is all she had as a reminder of their past life. There would be no second chance for them.

She didn't hear the door open. "Georgie" the voice said softly.

She jumped to her feet and spun round. Spanner was stood there.

"Shit. Sorry,. I didn't mean…"

He held his hands up to placate her "Georgie it's ok. Are you alright?" He said, his voice etched with concern. He wasn't expecting to find her in Elvis' room.

"Yeah" she said as she put the pictures down on the desk, and wiped her eyes.

"What are you doing here?" He asked uncertainly.

She shrugged her shoulders "I don't know really. I was just wandering round the base and ended up here. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here" she muttered as she made a move towards the door.

"No it's alright. Stay" He walked over to her and looked down at the pictures she'd thrown on the desk.

"You know, he took them everywhere with him. They came on every mission" he said with a small smile.

"Really?" She asked, unable to hide the surprise in her voice.

"Yep. He never went anywhere without them. Said it reminded him of home and when things were a bit shit it reminded him of happier times"

She couldn't say anything, she just stood looking at the pictures as she gently traced her finger over his face staring up at her.

"Georgie. I'm so sorry." He put his arm round her shoulder and pulled her into a hug, as she wept on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry too. How are you guys holding up?" She said wiping her eyes as she pulled away.

"Ok I guess. I don't know. It doesn't really feel real. I keep thinking he's going to appear and that it's all just a cruel joke"

"I know what you mean. I feel like I'm going to wake up and discover it was just a bad dream" she said dejectedly. "Anyway what are you doing here?" She said, quickly changing the subject.

He looked sadly round the room. "I was just coming to square his kit away. We're shipping out of here later today".

"Back to the U.K?" She queried

"Yeah, we're escorting his body back" he said glumly.

"Well I'm glad he won't be going back alone" she said, offering a small smile in appreciation. "Do you want any help? You know packing his things away?"

"There isn't much really. It won't take long. But I'd be glad of the company if you want to stay?"

"Thanks. Not sure I can face leaving just yet" she said sadly.

He nodded his head in agreement. He got it. Although it wasn't much it was the one place where they could feel close to Elvis.

…..

 **The mess hall**

As she left Elvis' room and made her way across the base she felt a knot in her stomach, which she was pretty sure was anxiety. She was on her way to find the rest of her section. She'd not spoken to them since it happened and she knew they would mean well but she really didn't want to field questions and relive it. She'd spent all night and the best part of the morning crying. She wasn't actually sure she had any more tears left in her right now. She just wanted to focus on something else, if only for a little while.

As she walked into the hall all eyes turned to face her. She made her way over to them, already on the defensive in case she needed to shut down any talk of Elvis or how fucked up the whole situation was. Brains was first to speak.

"Hey Georgie. Come on I've got a spot right here for ya" he smiled, as he gestured at the empty seat next to him.

She let out a visible sigh of relief and offered up a small smile to them as she made her way over to the table and sat down next to Brains. She glanced around the table. Everyone was sat with their head down, no one wanted to look in her direction or speak. She could understand why. If it was the other way round she probably wouldn't know what to say either. She thought she might as well take the plunge and get any awkwardness out of the way.

"Look, what happened yesterday, I can't even get my head round it. I feel like it's playing on a constant loop and I still can't make any sense of it. And I'm sure you guys are exactly the same. But I've spent the last 24 hours crying and I just want to try and forget for a bit so can we please just talk about anything other than yesterday?"

They all nodded in agreement.

"Course Georgie. Just you know, we're here if you need us" said Brains.

"I know. Thanks"

"So do you think the Captain's gonna tell us we're heading home then?" Asked Fingers optimistically.

"Hopefully. I'm done with this Afghan grime man. I've showered four times and the waters still grey" joked Monk.

"Doubt that's gonna happen. We're probably gonna be heading back to Nepal?" Brains jumped in.

"You reckon?" Questioned Fingers.

"Yeah. We were only here for the mission weren't we. Reckon we've still got another couple of weeks in Nepal until decompression then home"

"I don't care where we go as long as we leave this bloody country" Georgie muttered.

Georgie clocked Captain James, followed by King enter the mess hall and nudged Fingers to stand to attention. The others soon followed suit.

"Relax, relax guys". It was captain James

They sat back down. He glanced at them. They looked broken. Exhausted. He wasn't exactly sure how his next statement was going to go down.

"King and I have been talking and we think that the best thing is to divide into two units. One heading straight back to the UK. The other finishing off the prefabs in Nepal". Georgie gave a small shake of her head.

"The Nepal team will be myself, Fingers and Brains. Those heading back to the U.K will be , Georgie, Maisie, Monk and Sergeant King"

He'd barely had a chance to finish before Georgie spoke up. "We request to stay as one unit boss".

"Well someone has to go back to Nepal and supervise Lane, and Square away the Kit".

"Then we all go sir. We're a team. We don't want to split up. We stick together. We want to finish the job we set out to do...boss". She wasn't sure if the rest of the section would thank her for speaking for them but they all seemed to nod in agreement behind her thankfully.

He regarded them all carefully, before glancing at King who gave a small shrug of his shoulders and nod of his head.

"Very well then. The truck to take us to the air base will be leaving at 15:00 hours so go square away your kits" he ordered, as he turned to leave.

"Boss". Georgie called, as she got up from the table and made her way over to him.

"Could I have a quick word?"

"Sure. King I'll catch up with you in a bit"

"No problem boss."

He turned back to Lane, a small frown appearing on his brow "Is everything ok?" He asked, his voice full of concern.

"Yeah. Yeah fine. It's just. I was wondering, before we leave, if I could go and see him?"

"You want to go to the morgue?" He asked incredulously "Are you sure that's a good idea Georgie?"

She shrugged her shoulders. She was fighting to hold back the tears. He could see she was struggling.

"I don't know but I want to say goodbye" she said sadly.

She could see him thinking it over.

"Please boss"

"Look, I'm not going to stop you if that's really what you want to do but have it noted that I don't think it's a good idea" he sighed.

She gave a small nod in appreciation.

"Just make sure everything's squared away before then and be out in the yard for 14:45".

"I will be. Thanks boss"

He stood with his arms folded as he watched her walk away. Georgie was certainly braver than him. He wasn't sure he could handle seeing Elvis. He didn't want his last image of him to be in the morgue in Afghan, although it couldn't be much worse than the image that constantly played in his head. He took a deep breath and gave his head a little shake. He couldn't wait to leave Afghan. The country was seriously fucked up. The sooner he could get them all out of there the better. He strode out of the hall and down the corridor with purpose as he headed to find Spanner and make sure all the plans were finalised for Elvis' final flight home.

 **Saying goodbye**

She sat outside waiting for them to tell her it was ok to go in, playing nervously with the sleeve of her jumper. When she'd asked Captain James earlier she'd thought it was a good idea to go and see Elvis but now she was sat waiting outside the morgue in the hospital corridor, her hands were shaking and she felt the wave of nausea creep up on her. Did she really want to do this? No one was making her, but she thought she owed it to herself, and to him, to say goodbye. There was so much she hadn't had the chance to say, and even if she knew he couldn't hear her she still felt like she needed to say it. Besides, she knew there was a good chance she was going to miss the funeral because she didn't know when she'd be back from Nepal.

"We're ready. You can come in now". The voice made her jump, bringing her back to the present.

She gave the mortuary assistant a cursory nod as she stood up, took a deep breath and swallowed down the lump in her throat. Walking gingerly into the room her legs were shaking and her heart was pounding in her chest. She'd seen dead bodies before, too many times, but never someone close to her.

As she approached the body, she wasn't sure what she was expecting but she was slightly taken aback by his appearance. She was expecting to see his face as she'd been picturing it for the last 24 hours. Bruised and bloodied. That's what she'd been gearing herself up for. But they'd cleaned him up a bit and although there were a few injuries around his face he looked...peaceful. Almost as if he was just asleep. She wanted to shake him awake and tell him to stop playing this cruel joke on her, but she'd seen him hit the ground from the top of that building in front of her own eyes and she knew, straight away, he wasn't coming back from that. He was gone, no matter how desperately she wished it wasn't true.

She'd promised herself she'd try not to cry but there was no way she was able to keep the tears from falling, as she gently reached out to stroke the hair from his eyes, letting her fingers trace down his face in the process. She bit on her bottom lip, choking back a sob that threatened to overcome her. Her lungs were burning and she felt like she couldn't breathe as she sat there silently sobbing.

The guy said she could have as long as she wanted but now she was here she wasn't sure what she wanted to say or even why she'd wanted to come. Her mind was drawing a blank as she stared at him, except it wasn't really him anymore- was it?.

"What am I meant to do without you Elvis?" She asked quietly, pausing as if she was waiting for a response, although she knew none would come. Maybe she'd finally gone mad, after all she was sitting there talking to herself. "How could you go and leave me? After everything...you promised. You stood out there and promised you'd never let me down… you promised." She choked on her words as a sob caught in her throat. "And you did. You went and died on me! How is that bloody fair? You can't propose to me a second time and make me think we're going to have a life together and then go and leave me!. It doesn't work like that. You don't get to leave me again." Her sobs were coming thick and fast now. It was as if she'd turned on a tap and couldn't stop it. She was surprised she'd even got any tears left to cry but they were still pouring down her face. She could feel the hurt and anger pouring out of her as she collapsed onto the chair at the side of the table, and sobbed into her arm.

When the sobbing finally subsided she lifted her head up to look at him. "I'm sorry"' she mumbled. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry that your little girl now has to grow up without a dad. And most importantly I'm sorry that I didn't forgive you sooner. I wanted to punish you for hurting me. I was trying to protect myself from getting hurt again but all I've done is stopped myself from being happy. We could have been happy these last two years couldn't we?" She wasn't sure if she was now apologising to Elvis or justifying her actions to herself. "I convinced myself I was over you and that I didn't love you anymore. But I was wrong. Thank you for being so persistent. And not giving up on me. Sorry I didn't trust you enough to let you back in sooner" she whispered, her lip quivering as she tried to stop herself crying again.

She let out a small laugh to herself. "You've fucked up my life in unimaginable ways Elvis but I don't think I'd have it any other way. I'm so glad I met you. Thank you for always being my knight in shining armour, even if I wasn't alway grateful at the time. I'm definitely gonna have to take care of myself now you're not there to have my back aren't I?" She joked.

"I'm sorry we don't get our second chance. I'm grateful that we at least got one last night together though and that you died knowing that I do love you, and that I've always loved you. Despite everything it's always been you. Sleep tight baby"

She knew her time was nearly up. The truck would be here soon and they needed to prep him for transport.

She gently kissed her fingers and placed them on his lips, as her tears spilled down onto his face. Remembering the bundle of pictures she'd brought with her from his room she opened his hand and placed them in it. "This way we'll always be with you. You'll never be alone."

….

As she was waiting for their truck to be loaded up she watched as Elvis' body was brought out and placed into the truck taking him to the airbase. Herself, along with the rest of her section and some members of the ANA who were in the area, followed Captain James' lead in saluting the body and bowing their heads in honour. She'd done this a few times before but doing it for Elvis just felt surreal.

She was busy preparing her kit and making sure she had everything, that she didn't notice spanner was stood behind her until he tapped her on the shoulder.

"Bloody hell you have a habit of creeping up on people don't you! She laughed. "No wonder you're in special forces"

"Sorry" he laughed. "I just have something that I wanted to give you before we left"

"Okay?!" she said skeptically

He opened up his hand to reveal Elvis' dog tags.

"His dog tags?"

"Yeah. I think he'd want you to have them"

She reached out for them, he could see the tears glistening in her eyes. "Thank you" she said sincerely as she clutched hold of them tightly.

"I have something else too". He handed her the letter.

 _In the event of my death please give this letter to Corporal Georgie Lane! "_ Is this what I think it is? She said alarmed

He nodded solemnly.

She was shocked. She had no idea Elvis would write his death letter to her.

"Th...thanks" she stumbled. There's no way she could read it now. She wasn't emotionally ready to read what was in that letter. She tucked it away into the front pocket of her Bergen. "I'm not going to read that now...I can't" she said by way of an explanation.

"I understand. I don't blame you"

She looked over to the truck before turning back to Spanner.

"Take care of him"

"I will do"

She pulled him into hug, before he walked off ready to escort Elvis' body home.

She put on her helmet and climbed into the truck. She was grateful to leave Afghan. She never wanted to step foot in the country again. As she sat looking out the back of the truck she clutched his dog tags. With one last glance around the base she let the tears fall as the memories of what had happened played out and she said goodbye. Charles was sitting next to her. He gave her a gentle nudge. "Are you ok?" He asked delicately

She gave a small smile. "I will be boss. I will be" she said as the truck rumbled out of the base towards the airfield, never to darken Afghans door again.


	6. Chapter 6: Siege!

_Thank you to everyone who supported SA84's heart wrenching description of the missing scenes from S3, Ep4, showing the heartbreak and grief shown by those affected by Elvis' demise. Regardless of your take on Elvis' exit, fans were united in needing tissues as they read SA's beautiful writing._

 _This week it is the turn of Foxy Trot_ _to take us on a journey into Our Girl Land. I would suggest that you take a deep breath, pop your seat belt on and ensure you have your parachute packed for this punchy ride into uncharted territory.  
_

 **Siege!**

by

Foxy Trot

Molly smiled as the whirring rotors reached a peak and the Chinook went airborne. She always felt little stab of exhilaration when they lifted off on a new mission. Even that persistent nugget of doubt she'd cherished seemed to fade as they cleared the swirling dust of Camp Bastion and accelerated over Highway One towards the Helmand River.

The Private sitting opposite her grinned and gave her a thumbs-up. He seemed all right. Looking at the rest of the platoon, she could see from their sunburned faces and dust-raked uniforms that these men had already been on tour for a few months. Good. If things went pear shaped, she wanted some reliable soldiers around.

They were on their way to Kajazi, a small town on the other side of the Helmand, where a platoon of Brits had been forced to retreat to the administrative centre after the Taliban took over the surrounding buildings.

When she'd first heard about the mission, she'd hesitated, but Captain Newlish, her new, young CO had reassured her: "You'll only be there for a short time while we recapture the town. A couple of weeks at best." He sounded pretty certain it was a done deal.

But listening to the boys' banter as they loaded the Chinook, it seemed this operation was no cert. It sounded more like it was turning into a siege.

Molly looked out of her window to a town they were approaching. She wondered if it was anywhere near the Boss's FOB? He was out here in Musa Qala somewhere, but because of secrecy, and because it was Charles, he'd refused to divulge where. Bloody typical of him!

She was just wondering why she couldn't see any jingly trucks or locals in the market when one of the boys shouted: "Look out! They've got an RPG!"

There was ping above her and the Chinook wobbled. Automatically she lowered her head. She could hear something wrong with the rotor. Christ! The pilot was fighting with the controls. If they went down in this village, even if they survived the crash, it'd probably be curtains!

"Keep right! Keep right! KEEP RIGHT!" she heard someone yelling, again and again, as the helicopter lurched downwards. Some pages from a notebook flapped noisily past her head and something hit her hard on the arm. There was more shouting from the cockpit and she heard a crump of fire in the distance. And just as she began to think it was going to be the end, they bumped to the ground and she landed on the floor, banging her head on one of the boys' knees.

There was a silence as everyone worked out if they were all right.

"He made it!" shouted Newlish. A cheer went up and she realised the pilot had managed to get them into the administrative centre and avoid landing amongst the enemy in the town.

Above her the squaddie gave her a playful shove. "You all right medic?" He grinned at the other boys: "Or would you like to stay down there with your head between my legs, darlin'?"

"Fuck off you toss pot," she muttered as she grabbed her Bergen and jumped out of the door. The midday light outside was blinding. She felt stunned by the attack and furious with the squaddie.

Looking around, she saw they were in a dusty civic square, enclosed by low, mud brick buildings. Scanning the rooftops she noticed several men crouching low, manning fixed gun positions, their weapons pointing down into the town.

She tried to push away a creeping feeling of unease.

"Did you take a hit?" A sergeant she didn't recognise raced over to the pilot who was inspecting the helicopter. "We've got a group to get out of here".

"Are you okay? Is that painful?" Molly looked up, surprised to hear a female voice. It was a medic, a Corporal she hadn't met before. The Corporal gestured towards her arm. Molly looked down to see it was bleeding. She stared at it for a moment, confused, yet suddenly aware of pain.

Behind her someone yelled: "Dawsey! What are you doing here?" Fingers pulled her into a big bear hug and Brains yelled: "Fuck! Am I glad to see you! Did you bring us any biscuits?"

Molly struggled to get out of their arms. Two section must be here! And that meant the Boss was too!

"Fingers, Brains, what the fuck are you playing at?"

She'd recognise that voice anywhere.

"Put that medic down! Do you want to left behind in _The Alamo_? We're supposed to be getting on that helicopter and flying out of here!"

Molly looked past Brains' ear to see the Boss marching towards them. He was even leaner now after months on tour and she realised she'd forgotten how tall he was. He pulled off his headset angrily and she saw his curly hair was swirled with dust. He looked furious and… damn sexy.

Fingers let Molly go. "Sorry Boss," he said cheekily, not sounding sorry at all. "But look who's here. Your favourite old pop tart, the medic Dawsey!"

Molly bit back an impulse to laugh: "Less of the old, thanks Fingers. I'm only 26."

The Boss stared at her for a moment, looking thunderous: "You're not supposed to be here. I told them it wasn't a suitable place for females."

Molly didn't know how to react. Christ this man was supposed to be her boyfriend. "Nice to see you too, Sir," she said quietly.

"That's a bit sexist, isn't it, Sir?" piped up the other female medic.

The Boss whirled round to rebuke her: "It's because this posting has become a siege. It's too bloody dangerous. There's nowhere suitable to sleep or wash and it's so difficult to defend, the Taliban could overrun it at any moment." His voice hardened. "I don't need to spell it out, do I Lane?"

Molly looked from Charles to the medic standing next to her. So this woman was Georgie Lane, the gorgeous medic that Charles had bagged after she had had to move to another platoon. All summer she'd listened to a flurry of gossip at Bastion about how "Charles requested Lane personally", how "bloody good they look together" and "how well they get on". In the beginning she'd felt able to shrug it off, relieved the relationship with Charles had gone under the radar. But as summer wore on, the relentless heat and enforced restrictions at Bastion sapped her confidence and there were nights when she would lie awake steeped in doubt.

And now all she could think as she looked at Lane's perfectly painted brows was: 'She _is_ gorgeous, but fuck me, all that make up on out here in an Afghan village?'

Molly knew she was being unreasonable. She shouldn't criticise Lane on the basis of looks. She'd hate it if any of the other girls judged her by anything but her soldiering.

"No Sir, you don't need to spell our situation out," Lane responded. "It's just that…" she hesitated as the Pilot marched around the Chinook.

"Those Taliban fuckers have severed my bloody rotor, the pilot shouted in fury."

Charles spun round: "Are you able to get out Flight Lieutenant?"

"Not a sodding chance, Captain. For one, this Chinook won't fly until I get spares and, second, I don't think an RPG did that. Look at the damage here. He pointed to a twisted, burnt section of the rotor blade. Only a SAM could do that."

Charles sighed. He turned to his men: "Right, two section, square your kit away. It looks as if we'll be staying here for a bit longer."

There was an almost palpable sense of disappointment. As two section walked away Dawes could hear Fingers groaning: "Fuck me, we'll never get out of this shit hole."

"Yeah," grumbled Brains: "And once those Taliban wankers realise we've got a Chinook in here they're going to step up their attacks for sure."

"And we don't even have enough bloody food as it is. Now there'll be extra mouths to feed.

The Boss turned back to look at Molly's arm. He was tight-lipped with fury.

And Molly was beginning to feel pretty anxious. So far he hadn't acknowledged her at all.

"Lane, it looks like you've got a casualty to deal with."

"Yes boss."

"And while you're about it, please find a suitable space for Dawes to settle into?"

Lane nodded and picked up Molly's Bergen.

Molly pulled it back: "I don't need any help, thanks Corporal!"

Lane turned back in surprise: "It's Dawes isn't it? Don't get the wrong idea, _Private_. I was only thinking of your arm."

Tense, suspicious of each other, the two girls started walking towards the makeshift med centre.

For the briefest second Charles allowed himself to watch them go. Then he turned to Dawes' CO, who was supervising his men unloading supplies from the helicopter.

Captain James said quietly: "I don't suppose you've brought any water with you, Captain Newlish? We're desperately low on supplies."


	7. Chapter 7: Family Portrait

_**Hi eveyone. Thank you for your lovely support of The Christmas One Shot challenge and for Chevy's great Alternate View. We are now delighted to bring you this wonderful story from Blackwater. So, sit back, hide, go wherever er you have to go and find 5 minutes piece, and enjoy. :-)**_

 **Family Portrait**

 **By Blackwater11**

 **April 2012**

Belinda stared unblinkingly up at the bedroom ceiling while her eyes, red rimmed and gritty with exhaustion, traced the edges of a patch of peeling wallpaper that had been cast in eerie shadow by the glow of the bedside lamp next to the bed. The paper had become so pale and worn with age that Belinda had trouble remembering what its original colour actually was. The house was blissfully silent. The kids were all asleep and Dave was god knows where; probably out pissing away his doll money. Yet, despite the late hour, she couldn't get her nut to stay quiet enough to let sleep claim her even though she knew Martin would soon wake, desperate for another feed.

Propped herself up into a sitting position, Belinda reached for her phone, her fingers hovering uncertainly over the green button that would connect her call. She knew she shouldn't. She was only torturing herself and leaving herself open to more anger and grief from Dave. But Belinda couldn't help it. She had to hear her say it again. Just one more time. Taking a shaky breath, Belinda connected the call and held the phone to her ear. Within seconds, she heard the familiar yet choked voice of her eldest daughter and the crushing ache that had resided in her chest ever since she'd been forced to disown Molly returned.

"Mum it's only me, I just wanted to hear your voice…. And I just wanted you to know that I love you. You will come to passing out won't you mum? Please come caz it's a big deal." Belinda closed her eyes as she detected the strain of false conviction in Molly's voice; the tell-tale sign that she was fighting back the tears. However, it was hearing Molly's voice crack and break as she desperately pleaded with her to come to passing out that was Belinda's undoing. As the call ended, Belinda's grip on the phone slackened and it fell onto the bed. Letting her head fall limply into her hands, Belinda sagged boneless against the wall and, curling herself into a ball, she finally let herself feel. Belinda's body wracked with sobs and her hands shook as she bit her knuckles in a bid to quieten her sobs. The crippling feelings of loneliness, despair and shear helplessness seemed to bleed all the warm from what remained of her splintered heart until it felt as though only ice remained flowing through her veins. Wave after wave of grief crashed through Belinda leaving her feeling as though she was lost at sea; torn violently from her mooring with nothing left to tether her or guide her safely back to land.

All around her, the night's shadows lengthened and seemed to loom threateningly along the walls, tricking Belinda's conflicted mind into believing they were fragments of lost memories. Like ghosts, the wispy shadows materialised into memories of a happier, more carefree time: Molly- with her brow creased in concentration and determination- taking her first unsteady steps into the world before falling into Belinda's waiting arms; A beaming Molly sat atop Dave's shoulders- her eyes alight with wonder and joy -as she took in the sights and sounds of her first Hammers game; Molly who- at no more than 5 years old- giggled wildly as she rolled down the hill in Central Park in an attempt to show a dubious Jade that there was nothing to fear about trying something new. The shadows along the walls continued to shift and spin, making Belinda feel as though she was on a merry- go- round with no way of getting off. Now a slightly older and wearier Molly materialised on the walls huddled at the foot of her bed as she tenderly tucked her siblings under the covers, her arms wrapped tightly around Bella whist she whispered soothing words of nonsense into her ear in order to drown out the sounds of Belinda and Dave screaming at each other from below.

Molly always was the strongest of all the little bleeders. Even then, she bit her lip and tucked her head into Bella's hair as she fought to quieten her own broken sobs so as not to scare or panic her siblings further. Never one to show any weakness or to back down from a fight, Molly was everything Belinda wasn't; Brave, fiercely loyal, strong and ultimately fearless with an independent streak that ran the entire length of the Themes. But Belinda wasn't fooled. Underneath the false bravado, lay a fragile, beautiful girl who just wanted love and approval from her family. She was still her little girl who wanted the reassurance that she was doing the right thing. Belinda wished now that she had been strong enough she give it to her. She feared now was too late.

Giving herself a mental shake, Belinda heaved herself to her feet and watch the shadows disperse as she shuffled quietly from the room to make her way downstairs. Stifling a yawn, she flicked on the kitchen light and jumped in fright when she saw Dave squinting up at her from where he sat nursing a beer at the kitchen table. "Jesus Dave, you nearly gave me a Sean Connery. What the bleedin' 'ell are you doin' sat there in the dark. Did u forget to pay the electric again?" Belinda's hand flew to rest on her frantically beating heart as she filled up the kettle before lowering herself in a chair opposite him. "No. What you doin' down 'ere?" Dave mumbled as his grubby fingers played with the ring pull on top of the can.

"I couldn't sleep. Thought a cuppa might help," Belinda replied quietly, her eyes refusing to meet his. There was a long awkward pause and Belinda could feel the gulf that had existed between them, ever since Molly came home for R and R, widen even further. How did things get this bad between them? Neither seemed to have the energy nor the inclination to end this bitter feud that had been bubbling away under the surface for months, rendered their relationship nearly toxic. Belinda was tired of fighting; exhausted to the bone.

"You not getting any kip wouldn't have anythin' to do with not tellin' me about this now would it?" Belinda looked up to see Dave clutching a large brown envelope. He pulled out several pieces of A4 paper, the folds now smoothed flat from the number of times Belinda had re-read them. On top on the pile, lay a picture of Molly in her passing out uniform, her posture ram rod straight with her rifle slung against her shoulder and her face alight with pride and joy. She looked so grown up. Belinda couldn't remember when she had last seen Molly look so happy.

"I thought we agreed not to see that selfish mare anymore. What's she doin' writing to us? Wants to come crawling back does she? Finally seen the light?" Belinda remained quiet for a few minutes wondering how to broach the subject as she watched Dave clamber unsteadily to his feet and lumber his wave over to the bin, Molly's letter crumpled in his clenched fist. "She didn't choose us Belinda. She's made that perfectly clear." With each word he spoke, Dave tore through the pieces of paper in his hands until they were nothing but confetti fluttering into the bin. He turned and reached for the photo but Belinda stopped him by placing a hand firmly on top of his.

"Don't." Belinda didn't raise her voice but spoke quietly yet firmly as she moved the photo out of his reach. After a pause, Belinda began talking quietly. "I went to see her you know…..Molls."

"You did what? How could you do that?" Dave could barely control his rage. His face colouring an ugly red whilst his eyes narrowed into angry slits. Belinda met his gaze head on as she continued regardless of her husband's anger. "How could I do that? How could we do that Dave?" Belinda's voice had gotten steadily louder as she watched Dave's face cloud with confusion.

"What you on about?" Belinda's laugh was nearer a bark of utter disbelief, her face morphing into the steely look that Dave knew all too well. It was the same look Molly got when she'd made up her mind about something and nothing and nobody was going to change it.

"I had to see 'er Dave. Did you know she's completed her basic training and has moved on to the next phase? Our little girl could be going off to fight in a bleedin war and I didn't want her goin' off thinking we didn't care about her. The Army ain't like one of them games off the Xbox where if you get shot and killed you get to have another go. If you make a mistake out there it could be fatal or did you miss that news report from Brize Norton where all them coffins of those poor soldiers were being flown home?" Dave opened his mouth but no sound came out. Belinda wasn't deterred however and kept going, having finally gathered the courage needed to say what she had been longing to say for months.

"What if that were our Molls? Can you honestly say you'd feel nothing if you ever got that phone call? If anything were to happen to her can you truly live with yourself knowing your last words to her were full of hate an' distain? Caz I know I can't. She's our baby girl. She's my baby girl and I let you push her aside and for what? Because she didn't want to go ahead with one of your stupid schemes? She wanted more from her life Dave and what did we do? Instead of supporting her and telling her we loved her like we should have done, we turned our backs when she needed us the most."

"It's not fault she's a stubborn mare."

"Who the bloody hell do you think she got it from? We raised her to speak her mind and be independent, what do you expect?" The two of them stared at each other silently as they tried to figure out the mess they both had a hand in creating.

"I won't let my baby die thinking we don't love her Dave. You need to fix it," Belinda spoke softly as if afraid to shatter the fragile truce between them.

"What if I don't know how?" Belinda sighed as she stared at her husband. For the first time in a long time, Belinda allowed herself to truly look at her husband. The years hadn't been kind to him. With his unkempt hair and stubble, eyes rimmed with dark circles and puffy from too much drink, Dave looked far older than his 44 years.

"All you can do is try Dave. Just promise me you'll try. Please."

 **June 2014**

Belinda looked up from her ironing upon hearing the gentle click of the front door. Seconds later, Dave comes shuffling down the stairs, still in only his pants and with his dressing gown trailing behind him. Oblivious to his state of undress, Dave followed his daughter out onto the balcony and watched worriedly as she disappeared through the alleyway. Coming to stand quietly next to Dave, she handed him a fresh cuppa and together they stood and stared out across London as the city came to life in the early morning.

"Our girl will be alright you know," Belinda muttered quietly as Dave turned to look at her, a question in his eyes. "Molly and the lads will get through this together. It's bound to be tough losing one of their own after growing so close but the boys are a good bunch. They'll look after Molly today, just like they did at the funeral. I know it."

"Oh yeah and what about this posh bloke of hers? What's his name… Chester is it? Will he be there for her an' all or is he just like the rest of em?" Belinda smiled at the accusatory tone, knowing that, deep down, it was coming from a place of love. "Charles," Belinda muttered, making sure to stress his name correctly, whilst throwing him a pointed look, "Will be there at the memorial with the rest of them. He's doin' a reading like what he did for Smurf's brother. Poor sod, havin' to do that twice. Those poor boys' Mother. It don't bear thinking about. Losing them both like that. Don't worry Dave. Charles an' the boys will make sure she gets home alright today. I know it."

"How? You haven't bleedin' met him yet."

"Caz he's different than the others. You can tell by the way Molly is when she talks about him. I think she's serious about this one." Dave didn't say anything, just started stubbornly down at his feet.

"Yeah well he better…..or else." Belinda laughed aloud as she took his arm and lead him back into the house.

"Or else what? You'll take him on? Be serious Dave. The man's a trained killer and could beat you hands down on his worst day and with his leg still in his boot. You don't have to worry. Molly is in safe hands. Besides, she's brave enough to take care of herself….she's got a medal to prove it an all now ain't she."

Shaking his head, Dave followed Belinda back into the house towards the kitchen but not before stopping to take a quick look at the latest addition to the photo wall. There they all stood together beaming with pride after Molly's medal ceremony inside Buckingham Palace. The family had finally come full circle. They weren't perfect by any means: They still argued with each other most days, not a day goes by that at least one door isn't slammed in someone's face; they were still a little rough around the edges, still learning to get along with each other as they once did; they were all a little bit broken after all they had suffered but, ultimately, and perhaps more importantly the family were all still whole.


	8. MRSCAHSRECLHCJ's One Shot

_**Hi everyone,**_

 _ **Thanks for your lovely review's of MissyMo's beautifully romantic one shot. Just what we need at Christmas time! Coming next, the lovely MrsCahsreclhcj (don't try and type that after a glass or two) has written another festive delight for you. Its another corker, but a little (cough) too long for the 1500 word challenge, so its with the Anthology, posted at Christmas time! We have one more festive one shot coming tomorrow, so hopefully these can give you a break from peeling potatoes and a chance to escape into CJ and Molly land. Enjoy. :-)**_

 **Christmas One Shot**

 **AN: This story was meant for the Miniaturist's Christmas one shot 1500 word challenge, but I failed that miserably as I just kept typing! So I hope you enjoy it even though it's quite long. I've taken some artistic licence with army procedures, it's probably completely different in RL so forgive me my inaccuracies, it's just for the story. I've enjoyed imagining Molly and Charles at Christmas as I run about being disorganised for our own one. Wishing you all a very merry Christmas and a peaceful new year.**

"Bella!" Molly shouted after her younger sister as she watched her clatter down the stairs and out the front door. "Fuck." She bit her lip to stop the tears from falling, but she was fighting a losing battle. Angrily she swiped at her cheek and went back into her old bedroom.

Perching on the edge of the bottom bunk, she held her phone, willing it to ring. She couldn't blame him for not getting in touch, he had been really disappointed that she'd declined his invitation to spend Christmas in Bath. It didn't feel right, knowing what she was about to suggest they do in the New Year and knowing that she should spend this one with her family. If her plans worked out then she wouldn't be seeing them as much.

She felt like the walls were caving in on her and it was only 10 a.m. She dressed quickly, pulling on her boots and coat. As she reached the front door, her Mum called from the kitchen,

"Molly? Where are you going?"

"Just out for a bit," she couldn't hide the break in her voice.

Belinda came through the hallway looking concerned,

"Molls, what are you crying for? What's going on? Is this cos you and Bella had a row?"

Molly nodded, closing her eyes, the tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Oh Molls, come on, let's have a cup of tea eh? It's bloody freezing out there."

"No Mum, please, I just need some air, please let me go." She turned and let herself out of the flat, walking briskly along the balcony while her Mum called after her.

She spent an hour wandering along the main street near home, looking at all the Christmas displays and feeling even worse. Eventually she got a cup of tea from Starbucks and settled down on a bench in the park. The cold weather and the fact it was Christmas Eve meant it was more or less deserted apart from the odd dog walker.

She took her phone out, 4 missed calls from her Mum and nothing from Charles. She began to flick through her photos, smiling through her tears at the last set of snaps they'd taken two weekends before. Her and Charles holding onto each other on the ice rink, Sam with whipped cream on his nose from his hot chocolate and a selfie Charles took of him kissing her under the mistletoe outside the Abbey.

He had been right of course, Bath was amazing at Christmas. They'd spent a fantastic weekend enjoying the festive activities, only heading home when the snow started on Sunday afternoon. Then that night when Sam had gone to bed and his parents were away overnight, they'd made love in front of the open fire in the lounge while the snow fell silently outside. Molly had panicked a bit immediately afterwards, overwhelmed by it all. She'd told him she didn't do perfect, didn't know how to handle it, but he held her close, talking to her and kissing all her worries away until she felt secure again. That's what made it worse when she told him she wouldn't be there on Christmas Day. She knew he was reading all sorts into it no matter how much she tried to reassure him.

Suddenly the screen filled with a picture of his smiling face and she jumped, brought back to reality. He was phoning her. She took a deep breath and swiped to answer,

"Hi you." She tried to sound as cheery as possible.

"Molly! Thank God, where are you?"

"What do you mean? I'm in London, where else would I be?"

"Your Mum called me, said you'd gone AWOL."

"Steady on mate, I've been gone for an hour, I'm round the corner, you don't have to get the RMP out just yet."

She could hear him smiling slightly,

"Well Dawes, technically as you're not currently on active service, the RMP probably wouldn't be interested and since you have only been missing an hour, they'd likely tell us to wait out."

"It's a good job we're well practiced at that ain't it Boss?"

"Molly….."

"I know I know, but you called me Dawes!"

"Fair enough. So….." There was a pause, "Belinda said you were upset…..did something happen?"

Silence.

She tried to choke back the tears, she didn't want to worry him and there wasn't much he could do anyway.

"Molly?"

"It's all gone to shit." She sobbed.

"What has?"

"My family, I thought it would be good having one last Christmas together, but-"

"What do you mean one last Christmas?" He sounded worried.

"Ehm nothing, just like…..you know, last year we was in Afghan and who knows where I'll be next year?"

"Right?" the tone of his voice showed he was expecting more information.

"So my Dad is being his usual arse self, Mum's still got her 'friend', that woman, Nan's away to Benidorm with her Bingo lot and Bella, well that's a whole other shit storm….." she trailed off miserably.

"Is it not how you thought it would be?"

"No." Her voice was small now as her crying subsided to small sniffles.

"Do you want me to come and get you?"

Molly's breath hitched. She really did want him to, but her Mum-

"Your Mum suggested it before you say anything. Said she doesn't want you to be miserable at Christmas."

"Yes please," she whispered, "come and get me. No! Hang on, what about Sam?"

"Rebecca is being awkward. I'm not getting him until 8.00 p.m. tonight and that was a push. Anyway, if I stay here, I'll get given a job to do and then Mum will get on at me for not doing it right. I'm safer out of the way."

"It's a long drive, I could get the train."

"I'm coming for you Molly, I'll be there just after 2.00."

"Thank you." She didn't know what else to say, but she knew she felt better.

"Thank you…..for letting me, you know…..I love you." His words wrapped round her, giving her warmth through the winter chill.

"Ditto."

-OG-OG-OG-OG-OG-

It was just after 6.00 p.m. when Charles pulled up outside his parent's house. It was only eleven days since she'd last been there, but it had been transformed. A large wreath hung on the front door which was lit by twinkling lights twisted round the fence on both sides. She could see a huge tree in the window which reached almost to the ceiling. She suddenly felt the familiar fear in her stomach.

"Molly, I know what you're thinking." She jumped as his voice in her ear shook her out of her reverie. He'd undone his seatbelt and leaned over, nudging her cheek with the tip of his nose, he kissed her gently on the corner of her mouth.

She looked down, suddenly worried that he was annoyed, but she needn't have been. He took her hand,

"Mum and Dad think you're amazing. Sam loves you and they're all ecstatic that you're going to be here for Christmas. It's just a house remember, it's who's inside that matters and every one of us loves you, especially me."

She smiled and kissed him back,

"Remember that day at Bastion, in your office?"

He grimaced, "How could I forget? I'm hoping it's the first and last time I have to hide you in my wardrobe."

Molly rubbed his cheek with her gloved hand,

"You asked me if I'd ever been to Bath and then you told me about this place," she looked out the window at the house, "you told me it was magical".

"I did. I wanted more than anything to have that to hold onto, that I'd be bringing you here as my partner, not as someone in my chain of command."

"And here I am."

"Are you ready to go in?"

She looked at the house once more and nodded.

A few minutes later, Molly was shutting the front door while Charles carried her bags to the bottom of the stairs, calling out to his Mum, but there was no reply.

"They've gone to Tesco," he called from the kitchen as Molly walked in to see him waving a note in the air, "because they didn't quite buy the whole shop yesterday." He rolled his eyes.

Molly walked to the kettle, switched it on and got out two mugs, she was still cold. He came up behind her, wrapping his arms round her waist and kissing her neck.

"However, it does mean that we've got the house to ourselves, for at least the next hour."

She smiled as she leaned back against him, "As tempting as that sounds, why don't we do our presents now, while we're on our own?" She turned to face him, still in his arms.

"Presents _now_?" He looked a bit shocked, "But it's only Christmas Eve."

"I know, but I don't want to give you yours in front of everyone tomorrow." Molly squirmed. Her stomach was roiling with nerves, she had no idea how he was going to react to the present she had for him.

"That sounds promising, does it involve that underwear I bought you the last time I was in London?"

"No you dirty git!" She swatted his chest playfully and grinned. "Come on, please let's go through to the sitting room."

"Ok." He could see she was serious and it worried him slightly. "Go through, I'll bring the tea."

If Molly thought the tree looked impressive from the outside, it was nothing to how it looked up close. The lounge was huge, big enough for a regency ball. She'd told him that the first time he'd taken her to visit the Jane Austen Centre. He'd laughed and told her not to give his Mum any ideas. There were more Christmas decorations adorning the room than Molly had ever seen in one place, even in John Lewis, but it was breathtaking. Not like the garish bits her Mum stuck up with sellotape for them all. Charles found her staring up at the tree when he came through carrying a tray.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" he said.

"Yeah, it is, no idea how you bloody well got it in here mind."

"Well that's a whole other story and one which my Dad will delight in telling you later I'm sure. Here", he handed her a mug. "Are you hungry? I brought some cake through, but Mum will likely be feeding us something later. Never happier than when she's fattening us all up.

Molly shook her head and sat down on the sofa. He noticed she had a large brown envelope in her hands. He sat down beside her,

"What's this?"

"Merry Christmas Charles." She handed him the envelope, her eyes wide with worry and he could see her shaking slightly.

"Molly, what's going on?"

"Just open it, please." She squeezed his arm.

He ripped open the envelope and withdrew the papers which were nestled inside. He was nervous now, what could she be giving him? He read the top piece of paper, but it took a few minutes for it's meaning to sink in,

"Acceptance of resignation? What the hell Molly?"

"Please, just read the rest," she pleaded.

Charles did as she asked, his mind spinning. The top letter confirmed that Molly had resigned from the army and would no longer be on active duty. There was the usual technical information, but none of that seemed important just now. What had she done?

He forced himself to look at the next page. It was a letter from Bath College welcoming Molly for a period of study commencing in January. He looked up into her worried face,

"I don't understand Molly, you've left the army? What are you doing? And without telling me? I thought we were a team." He trailed off sadly, but inside he was angry. She was throwing away her opportunities, just when she was doing so well.

"I wanted to surprise you." She felt deflated, how could she have got it so wrong? She thought he'd be delighted that she was moving onto the next step in her life.

"Well I'm more than surprised, I'm bloody shocked…..what…..I just don't get it. And this from Bath College? I think you better start explaining and fast"

Molly drew back. He looked furious and she was reminded of the day he'd bollocked her for going up in the winch with Smurf. The stern face, while sometimes a turn on, at other times was just terrifying. There was nothing else to do, but explain it all from the start. She took a deep breath,

"While I was away on my last tour, I spent a lot of time at the university, giving talks, training etc."

"I know that Molly, but-"

"Just let me tell you alright? You asked, I need to explain."

He nodded, but kept his arms folded.

"Well, I saw a lot of Quaseem and he ended up tutoring me."

Charles eyebrows shot up, but he kept quiet.

"He basically helped me fill in the gaps, English and Maths mainly. Everything I didn't quite manage when I was at school."

Charles' expression softened.

"Anyway, while I was there, I realised that actually I really liked learning new things. Not the sitting at a desk bit really, but the knowledge, you know? Actually engaging my brain as you would say. It made me want to do more, to learn more. Train in something that could make a difference."

"You were making a difference Molly."

She nodded, "I know, but _there_ , not _here_. We've got people here in the UK that need help as well and I was miles away in another country, missing you and wanting to be here. So I decided that the army helped me get here, but I need to go out on my own and do the next bit."

"And what is the next bit? Is this what this college letter is about?"

She nodded, "I've been accepted to do the second half of a year long access to nursing course. My experience in the field means that with some recommendation letters from the army and evidence from Quaseem, they're letting me start in January."

"And after that?" He was scared to ask too many questions at the one time.

"I'm applying to Bristol uni to do nursing."

Charles sighed and tugged at his hair a little.

"Say something Charles."

"I don't know what to say Molly," he sighed. "How could you have done all this and not told me? It's like you've planned the next stage of our life without even asking me. Where are you going to live? And the college, you must have had an interview, but I was with you every time you were in Bath, unless you were here and didn't tell me?"

"No, I was here."

"How then?"

"Remember that shopping trip your Mum took me on?"

He looked confused as he remembered the day they'd headed off early in the morning. Molly seemed nervous, but he assumed it was because it was her first trip with his Mum,

"My _Mum_ knows?!"

"I needed to tell someone Charles, get advice, find out what she thought of the idea, how she thought you would react. And she came with me to the interview. Invited me to stay here as long as I want, I thought that's what you would want too."

"So she advocated sneaking around behind my back did she?"

"No! Charles it wasn't like that! I wanted it to be a _good_ surprise. You said you wanted me to be brilliant and this is me trying to do that while also trying to keep us together and make a life for us. How long can we keep shuttling between London and Bath when I might end up posted to God knows where next?"

"We've managed haven't we? And that's the nature of the job Molly, you knew that when you signed up."

"And now I've signed _out_." She said vehemently. "This is what I want Charles, with or without you. I'm going to that college, but it doesn't have to be tied up with me living here with you. I survived months in a tent in Afghan, I can survive student halls!" And with that, she stood up and walked out of the room, the tree shaking and shedding new pine needles as she slammed the door.

Charles sat staring at the pile of presents around the bottom of it, his eye resting on one nestled near a bottom branch. Suddenly he heard the front door slam and he jumped up to see Molly tearing down the front path.

"Shit!"

He reached down, grabbed the present and ran into the hall, fighting to get his sleeves the right way to put on his jacket. Just then his parents came through the door carrying enough food to feed the whole street. He zipped the present into his inside pocket.

"Charles! Was that Molly I just saw going along the street? I thought you were picking her up from London? What's happened?" His Mum looked stern and he recoiled slightly. He'd learned his best Captain behaviour from her, but it wasn't much fun being on the receiving end of it. He was still angry though.

"My Christmas present is what happened Mum, something I believe _you_ were party to?" He sounded like a petulant child and he knew it.

Mrs James laid down the bags she was holding and fixed her son with a meaningful stare,

"If you mean the present where the love of your life made a decision which was right for her and took a leap of faith to make that decision work for both of you then yes I was definitely party to it. And if you've cocked that up somehow Charles, then so help me, Mary and Joseph won't be the only ones looking for a bed on Christmas Eve!"

Charles flopped down onto the bottom step of the large staircase. He looked at his Mum for a minute before he and Mr James burst out laughing.

"What?" She demanded indignantly.

"Just you Mum. You said "cocked up" and then that line about Mary and Joseph."

Her features softened,

"Well I'm glad I amuse you both, but rather than critique my comedy skills, don't you think you should go after Molly?"

"It's Christmas Eve, it's dark, what if I can't find her?"

"Charles she's on foot and she's not taken her stuff with her, I think it's safe to say she's probably just wandering about town. Wrap up and go out and find her. Make it right. And if living here with her isn't right then tell her sooner rather than later, even if it is Christmas."

"Finish with her you mean?" he seemed aghast.

"Yes, I thought maybe that's why you were upset with her surprise, because you're not ready or something."

Charles smiled ruefully, "No Mum, that's not it. You're right though, about her being the love of my life I mean." He felt for the present again, wondering if he'd screwed this up irreparably.

"Charles?"

"Mm?" He looked up to find his parents staring at him expectantly.

"Are you going to sit there all night?"

"No, no sorry, I was just thinking." He looked at his watch, "Right, Sammy will be getting dropped off in about 90 minutes, hopefully I'll be back by then."

"Good luck darling," his Mother hugged him tightly, "and I'm sorry if you think I was interfering, I thought I was doing the right thing."

He hugged her back, "It _was_ the right thing Mum, even if it bothers me that she spoke to you and not me. I'm glad she has you to turn to."

With that, Charles grabbed his scarf and gloves and headed out to find Molly.

-OG-OG-OG-OG-OG-

Molly wasn't sure where she was heading, she just needed to get out. She only really knew the streets of Bath from going into town with Charles so she relied on her memory and sense of direction and headed for the market. Her tears clouded her vision as she walked. To think that she last travelled along here arm in arm with Charles while also holding Sam's hand. She shook her head at the memory.

She'd expected Charles to be shocked by her news, it was a lot to take in, but she was so sure he'd be delighted that she wouldn't be away from him any more that she hadn't considered the fact he might be really angry.

After her 3 month tour following Smurf's death, they had two months to properly establish their relationship before she was posted up north for further training. They'd then spent the rest of the following year trying to have as much time together as possible in between her training and tours, his new job and time with Sam. After a Christmas in Afghan without Charles, the doubts had started to take root and by the summer she needed an out. To this end, education had opened a door through which she was ready to walk. And with Charles' Mum as her support, she'd made all the necessary arrangements. It seemed so stupid now.

She picked up pace, angrily swiping the fresh wave of tears which fell down her face. What was she thinking? Assuming he'd want to live with her, that he'd want her outwith the army? He told her constantly how much he loved her, but now when it came to the push…..she didn't know.

The market came into view and she choked back a sob as she remembered their weekend for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Despite the advancing hour on Christmas Eve, there were still a few revellers enjoying the festive atmosphere, laughing over mulled wine and last minute purchases.

She weaved her way past the stalls which were starting to close up for the night, eventually settling on a bench near the Abbey. She shivered, she had no idea what to do next. All her stuff was at Charles' parents' house and she couldn't go back to London at this time on Christmas Eve. She would just have to put her armour on, go back and then hide out in one of the many spare rooms until she could get back to her Mum and Dad's. She wouldn't go just yet though she thought. She would wait until Sam was there and then they'd all be so preoccupied with him, they wouldn't have time to worry about what she was doing. She nodded, mind made up.

-OG-OG-OG-OG-OG-

Charles was starting to panic, he'd been wandering around for ages looking for Molly. He was getting more frustrated and worried by the minute. Especially thinking that she had got on the train back to London, if there was one or if she was just walking about in circles and he kept missing her. She hadn't taken her phone so he couldn't call her.

Eventually, he stopped, running his hands through his dark curls. What was he thinking? Not showing her how much he wanted her with him. He was worried she was leaving her career just for him. He didn't want that resentment between them, that's what drove him and Rebecca apart, bitter, bitter resentment. He had to admit to himself and Molly, if he could ever find her, that really he was annoyed that his own plan had been derailed by her gift. And also the control freak in him had panicked about not being in on the planning of this next stage in their lives. Of course he wanted her to live with him, he'd dreamed of it often enough, but he hadn't told her that and now it might be too late.

He sighed, looking at the market stalls where the three of them had spent a magical weekend together. There had been a moment when Sam had accidentally got whipped cream on his nose and Molly had laughed so hard, snapping a picture on her phone. Charles had stood back observing them and experienced a true moment of happiness. He'd swept her up and kissed her outside the Abbey, taking a picture underneath the mistletoe to record the moment forever.

Charles smiled, despite the current situation, focussing on the scene in front of him. He walked towards the Abbey, the square becoming more deserted by the minute. What was he going to do? He needed to head back soon, but without Molly? Maybe he could wait another five minutes.

And then there she was.

-OG-OG-OG-OG-OG-

"Molly."

She heard the faltering in his voice. She didn't move, closing her eyes, she steeled herself for the inevitable, but instead she felt him sit beside her on the bench.

"It's ok Charles." She started, "you don't have to-"

"Molly, I'm so sorry that I didn't receive your gift properly." He took her hand in his, but she continued to stare straight ahead. He recognised her expression, it was the same one she wore at Smurf's funeral. She'd put up her walls, shutting him out. He couldn't let her think he didn't want her the way she wanted him.

"There _is_ a lot to talk about, a lot of details to sort out and I have a lot of questions, but I…..don't want….."

"You don't want me?" her voice broke on her question.

Charles turned her towards him, cupping her face in his hands, he pulled her close.

"Molly, no! I want you more now than I did back in Afghan. You're everything I want, I told you then, I want you to be the last thing I see and I meant it, I love you."

He crashed his lips against hers, their mutual tears mingling as they poured their emotions into the kiss. He stroked her hair as she fisted her hands in his, moaning into his mouth, she felt the desperation overwhelm her. Did this mean it was going to be ok?

"Charles, wait," she was breathless now, "what does this mean?"

"I don't know if I can explain it properly," he sighed and kissed her once more, gently.

Shaking his head, he stood, making his way over to the Christmas tree which stood in front of them, bathed in silvery blue light and surrounded by a white picket fence. Molly shifted on the bench, wiping her eyes and fishing in her pocket for a tissue. As she finished cleaning up her face, she looked up to find Charles staring at her.

"What?"

"I've just noticed something really strange," he said, pointing to the tree, "come here and look." He held out his hand.

"Charles, I think there's a few more important things to talk about before looking at a bloody fir tree!"

Despite her protestations, she pushed off the bench and went to stand by him. She followed the line of his finger now pointing into the lower branches which she could touch despite the fence.

Nestled on the lowest one and within her reach was a parcel.

"Do you think someone left it here by accident? Shit! Do you think it's a bomb?"

Charles laughed, "No Molly it's not a fucking bomb! Christ, trust you to say something like that _now_ of all times. Stand down soldier."

"I don't get it."

Charles came to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, he brought his mouth close to her right ear,

"It's for you."

"Me? But…..how…..hang on….."

"Molly please just open it!" Captain Stern was back.

She leaned forward until she held the small present in her hand. Just as she was about to open it, Charles closed his hand round hers,

"I said I didn't know if I could explain, but I hope this does."

"I have no bleeding clue what you're talking about, but ok." She smiled hopefully, she didn't think he'd be buying her a present if he was about to chuck her, then again maybe this was to soften the blow.

Charles moved his hand and finally she tore the paper. In her hand she held a small, velvet box. She held her breath as she felt Charles do the same,

"Open it," he breathed.

After what felt like an hour, she suddenly moved and flipped open the lid. There, nestled inside was a ring, one circular diamond surrounded by lots of other little ones and the beauty, both of the ring and the gesture, rendered Molly speechless for the first time in her life.

"Molly, this is why I got annoyed and I'm so sorry. This was lying on the tree at home and my plan was to give you it tomorrow in front of the family. I was so stressed about my plan being usurped by your gift, that I behaved like a complete twat. Can you forgive me?"

Molly turned to him,

"You do want me?" she asked cautiously.

"Of course I do Molly. I love you."

"So what does this mean?" She held up the ring.

Confused, Charles looked at it, "What-?"

It was just then that he realised, he hadn't actually asked the question.

"Shit, Molly, I don't know how else to ask you….."

"Ask me what?" She was allowing herself the tiniest bit of hope, but she couldn't relax until she knew for sure.

"Will you marry me?" It was simple, to the point, no gushing speeches, but he felt that they didn't need that. With all the misunderstandings tonight, he figured it was time to just lay it on the line.

"Yes Charles, yes, of course I'll marry you and then you'll be stuck with me!" She giggled.

He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her so tight she yelped.

"Charles!"

"Sorry, Molly, I just can't believe it. And I'm so sorry I made you doubt that I want to live with you, I want every day with you and I'm so proud of you for taking this next step. Please don't ever doubt how much I love you."

"Well, all that's left to say is…..ditto."

They both laughed as Charles pressed a kiss to her lips, an action he intended to repeat everyday for the rest of their lives. Molly clung on and kissed him right back.

"Merry Christmas Charles."

"Merry Christmas Molly."

The End


	9. Chapter 9: All I Need

_Good morning world. I'm very happy to be writing to you all with a brand new one shot from The Miniaturists, written by no other than the fabulous JenMC. I know you'd all rather read her lovely story, than my wittering, but before you start, get yourself a cuppa and a nice quiet spot. Between this and Itsembrarrasing updating last night too, you deserve a few moments to relax and curl up in the comforting embrace of CJ. Doctors orders. xxx_

 **All I Need**

 **By JenMC**

The coach pulls into the car park painfully slowly, crawling to a stop as a small crowd starts to gather. The windows are blacked out, and instead of trying to catch a look through them, I watch the door. I'm waiting for it to open, followed by the first flash of camouflage that I know will pass through shortly.

I know he won't be out the door till everyone else has been through. He's last, every time. I can count on the fact that he'll make sure everyone's accounted for and back with their family before he can breathe a sigh of relief and switch off a bit. He's told me before that coming home from tour when he's been in charge is like holding his breath for weeks and months till he finally knows that he's got every one of his soldiers back in one piece. The problem is that, this time, not everybody's coming back.

I'm still struggling to get my own nut round it, I can't even bear to think how he must be feeling. I know exactly how it feels to watch your best mate die in front of you; powerless to do anything but watch. My heart breaks for him having to go through the same.

I'm lost in my own world and memories for a minute, when I feel a hand burrow its way into mine. Sam's nearly the same height as me, and he bloody well knows how to throw the strop of an almost teenager. But when I look over at the same pair of dark brown eyes that came straight from his Dad, I get one of those reminders that deep down he's still just a kid, and he's looking to me to reassure him. One of these days I'll get the hang of this Stepmum thing.

He grips my fingers tightly and gives me a smile, pretending that he's holding onto me for my comfort rather than his. He's spotted my trainers digging deep into the gravel. I can't bear to watch the door any more.

"It'll be alright Molly, he'll be back soon."

"I know, mate."

I give his hand a good squeeze, so that he knows I ain't going anywhere. He's still got that blind optimism of a kid. I hope he doesn't grow out of it any time soon. Still thinks everything will be fine as long as his Dad's home and in one piece. Problem is, it's a bit more complicated than that, and I know it ain't gonna be as simple as he hopes it will. Been there, got the t-shirt and all that. But I don't say anything, just smile and let him keep holding onto my hand, tight as he can. He doesn't let go, and we watch without any more words as the door of the coach finally budges open.

I can't help but smile, even in these circumstances, when I see Brains pass down the narrow stairs with his kit bag, followed by a girl who I think must be Richards. I've not actually met her yet, but I can tell from the way she's bouncing about like Tigger that she's the new recruit. Charles says she could even give me lessons in giving him a bloody heart attack. I like her already.

I catch Brains with a grin and a wave with my free hand, and he's over in seconds, pulling me into a hug that takes my toes off the ground, and means Sam has to let go of me.

"Dawesy! Fuckin' hell, it's been too long." He registers Sam at my side and looks a bit sheepish. "Sorry, scuse the language mate. Don't go tellin' your Dad, eh?"

Sam goes all bashful for a change, before he smirks and looks at me. I know what's coming.

"Don't worry, that's nothing compared to what Molly shouted at somebody in the traffic on the way here."

"Oi." I feel my cheeks burn for a minute. "I thought we had a deal not to mention that again?"

"The deal was, you buy me a KFC, and I don't tell Mum or Dad. You didn't mention anyone else." The shit-eating grin is another thing he's inherited from Charles, like I can't possibly argue with him. And I can't. It's some sort of genetic thing, they can both disarm me in 5 seconds with that bloody smile.

"Alright" I sigh with defeat. "You got me there. And you can add your Grandma James onto that list too." I feel a bit of a chill down my neck just at the thought of her reaction to me expanding Sam's list of swear words. She don't exactly need any more of a reason to add me to her shit list.

Sam quickly gets fed up of making me feel guilty, and moves further towards the front of the waiting crowds of people, so he can keep an eye on the rest of the group as they trail out. Brains cocks his head towards him as he shifts away. "He's a chip off the old block, eh?"

"Tell me about it. Bossman Junior." I aim my eyes at the sky, and trail off as we get to the awkward bit. The one where neither of us wants to be the first to bring up the elephant in the room.

I break first.

"Well?" I keep half an eye on the coach and cringe when I see just how bad Georgie looks as she walks past, with Fingers at her side. Not that she's ever looked bad in her life, but her eyes are black, like she ain't slept in days. I should stop her, but she walks right past like she's in a daze. Brains hasn't missed what I'm watching, and shakes his head as if to tell me I ain't seen half of it. I feel another twinge in my stomach, half sympathy and half horrible memories coming back from where I've buried them. I know the answer before I even ask the question. "How bad are we talking?"

He don't need to ask me what I mean. We've always had a bit of an understanding between us. The look he gives me tells me everything I need to know, and my heart sinks a bit more.

"The worst." He takes a deep sigh, like he's trying to pick his words carefully. "I swear, I thought we weren't comin' back..."

He trails off as we hear Georgie's mum and dad whooping and shouting with relief as soon as she comes into their line of vision. Poor Georgie looks like she wants the ground to swallow her up. I'm not sure who rolls their eyes back furthest out of the two of us at the sound, it just don't feel right to be celebrating anything in the circumstances. My attention's pulled back to Brains as he clears his throat and looks at the ground. "I thought our first tour was as bad as it gets Molls, but I might have been wrong." He sighs and lowers his voice, making sure that Sam definitely can't hear him.

"I don't mean to overstep the mark here, but I think you need to keep an eye on the Bossman. He don't seem right to me. Even before Elvis."

Fuck. What can I say to that? Course he ain't right. Who would be?

"I will" seems like the only thing I can say to reassure Brains, but he doesn't seem convinced. It's not a lie, but I'm not even sure where to start if I'm honest.

Sam starts to wander back to us, and I change the subject, hoping he won't pick up on the tension that's suddenly arrived.

"No sign of Dad."

His disappointment is obvious, and I'm suddenly filled with a horrible feeling that maybe I shouldn't have given in so easily and brought him here. It might all be a bit soon and a bit too raw for an 11 year old kid. Or for Charles. I'm not sure which one of them I need to protect more if I'm honest.

The door springs opens again, and I feel my breath catch in my chest when I see him finally stroll down the stairs with Kingy in front of him, and an unreadable look on his face.

He hasn't spotted me yet, and I see the surprise register as Sam breaks out into a run towards him. I hold back, wanting to let him have his moment with his Dad. He's been desperate to see him for weeks, badgering Rebecca about coming with me to pick him up. She'd finally given in and phoned me to ask. That was my first clue that he must have been driving her nuts, cos she'd usually rather walk through hot coals than have to deal with me while Charles is on tour.

His face brightens as soon as he sees the figure running towards him and I breathe a sigh of relief that I didn't get it wrong. I do still know what he needs. His arms wrap around Sam, pulling him into a hug, and I can't help myself any more. I need to be over there with them. I've got that usual weird feeling when we've not seen each other for months. It's a balance between wanting to jump straight into his arms, but also feeling like it might take me a bit of time to learn how to be round him again.

He looks up past Sam's head, his eyes searching the crowds till he stops at mine. All it takes is one head movement, telling me to stop being such a fucking idiot and join them, and before I know it I'm muttering an apology to Brains and joining them in a shot. He's already got Sam under one arm, and before I know it I'm tucked into another, my face buried into his chest as he kisses the top of my head. I don't miss that his fingers move round my waist and give me a reassuring squeeze round my middle. I'm only a bit bigger than usual but im beyond relieved that he's finally home to feel the change. I'm scared to look up at him, knowing how hurt he is, and everything that's gone on in the last few weeks. It feels like too much to put into words.

I can feel the sob starting to burn my throat and I push it away for now.

I feel his arm shaking as he holds me and it's enough to bring me back. His words are whispered in my ear, the relief clear in his tone as his voice catches."I've never been so fucking glad to see you in my life, Dawes."

I finally get the courage to look into his eyes, they're shimmering with the things he can't say to me at the moment. I know I must look the same. There's only one little word I can manage in the circumstances, and I choke it out before my head's buried back where it belongs.

"Ditto."

We stay that way for a while, me and Sam silently tucked under an arm each as the crowd filters out around us, and he watches the soldiers that have been under his charge leave with their families. Brains nods his goodbye to me from a distance, his message not forgotten.

—

The car's painfully quiet. The only noises are the windscreen wiper squeaking back and forwards, and the indicator tapping as I wait to turn left. 9 and a half minutes since we pulled away from the base. I know cos I've been counting them down in silence. It ain't too awkward, cos he's holding my left hand as I drive, rubbing my thumb as if he's trying to remind himself that he's actually back here.

It's raining hard now, the drops falling on the windows for just a second before the wiper clears them away again. If only it was gonna be that simple to clear whatever's going on in his nut. He stares out, watching the drops of water fall and then clear away in a pattern, still gripping my hand that's on the gearstick. He's in another world. Our fingers locked together are the only small connection between us. I count down the last thirty seconds of time in my head and catch Sam's beaming face in my mirror, exaggerating my groan when it hits ten minutes cos I know just why he's so happy.

"Just my bleedin' luck Sam. It must be a record"

"Sorry?" Charles comes back from wherever his head wandered to, and a line of confusion breaks out across his forehead as Sam giggles from the back, knowing exactly what's going on.

"Ten whole minutes in the car and you've not once taken the piss out of my driving. I owe him a tenner now." My head points to Sam in the back punching a victorious fist in the air.

He grins but it doesn't quite meet his eyes. "I must still be on 'dicing with death' mode. Hasn't felt any different to the last three months yet."

"Cheeky git." My hand breaks away from him to swat him in the arm as he rubs it theatrically and gives me a small smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes. His attention goes to Sam for a minute, as if he's suddenly remembered that he's not really said much since we left.

"How's school Scamp, everything going ok?" I breathe a sigh of relief at the fact he's at least trying to engage in a bit of small talk. It don't last long with Sam's response, as he screws up his face and checks mine, to make sure I ain't grassed him up yet.

"Fine.."

I hold back a snort cos I know for a fact that he's being a bit fucking economical with the truth on that score. Rebecca already had a rant at me about it when I picked him up earlier today, but I ain't touching that with a bargepole. Somehow I don't think him being in hot water with the snotty headmistress is gonna go down too well with Charles. Unfortunately for Sam, he ain't in enough of a funk to have missed the looks passing between us.

"Samuel James?" The warning eyebrow's up, and even I feel a twinge of sympathy, a horrible flashback to a sandy tent in Afghan when nothing felt worse than a shitty look from the bossman. Lucky for him, Sam don't seem quite as affected, suddenly interested only in his phone as he fiddles with it. "Don't full name me Dad. It's no big deal ok?" Even I'm a bit convinced by his bravado, but I know him well enough to know he's shitting himself.

"What's happened?" The tired sigh is aimed at both of us now, but I'm doing my level best to be preoccupied with the traffic.

"There was a…." the rest is a mumble as Sam slumps down in his seat and does his best impersonation of someone who's forgotten how to speak past a whisper, still focusing on the small screen in front of him. I can't help but notice the red twinge making its way up his neck and into his cheeks. Poor sod.

"You're gonna have to help him out Sam, don't think they taught teenage mumble at Sandhurst."

Shit, was that me? I go back to being the world's most interested driver as Charles turns his whole body round in his seat to face Sam, dropping my hand in the process.

"It's no big deal."

"Yes, you've said that already, but I'd quite like to decide for myself thanks." His nose is getting pinched between two fingers now, and my sympathy levels are getting higher for Sam as time stretches on.

"There was a bit of 'an incident'.." he's using his fingers as quotation marks, which I don't think is endearing him to Charles one little bit. "..but Mrs Williams says if I do a written apology it'll be fine."

I'm not quite sure that's the same story as I got from Rebecca, but I ain't questioning it out loud.

"Christ Sam, what did you do, to have to give a written apology?" Suddenly it ain't just Sam with a bright red face. I can feel the stress levels increase in the car by the minute and I'm now wishing I'd just gone for the same solution I'd had the last time I picked him up from a tour - a room key for the nearest travelodge, and a bottle of wine waiting in the hotel room so we could spend a few hours making up for lost time. Different fucking story this time, for more than one reason.

"I….well, I.."

Sam looks at me for help, his eyes pleading. I can't take the stammering anymore without helping him out.

"He had a bit of a punch up with a lad a couple of years above, but like he said, he's gonna apologise and it'll be forgotten about."

Why the fuck did I do that? I'm already regretting getting involved as the eyebrow starts focusing on me instead of Sam. He shakes his head with a look of disbelief as he rights himself to face the front again.

He's not fuming, he's just floored. There are no words from him, just a sigh of tired acceptance. I'm not sure who's most panicky out of me and Sam at his reaction. This ain't like him; if I'd have placed a bet, I'd have gone for a bollocking followed by a 10k run in full kit, but maybe I'm just reliving my own bad memories.

"Dad?"

His voice is small and nervous, and I'm reminded for the second time today just how young he actually is as the tears start to fill his eyes. I'm a minute away from pulling over the car and giving him a hug when Charles speaks up.

"Why did you punch him?"

I seriously hope Sam gives him a better answer than the shrug I got earlier, cos I'm not quite sure how this is gonna go. Charles is quickly going back to whatever silent place he was in, and I know he needs something to pull him back.

"He said I was a liar."

His hand pulls mine towards him again so that it rests in his lap. He's making small movements up my wrist with his thumb, rubbing the veins that stand out. If I didn't know better I'd think he was taking my pulse. I'm not even convinced he's heard Sam's explanation.

"What did he say you were lying about Sam?" I try and move his confession forward since it's the most information he's come out with so far.

The whisper that follows is so low I barely hear it.

"Uncle Elvis."

Charles' hand tightens around mine as if it causes him physical pain for a second to hear the name out loud and we both glance at Sam in the mirror. The tears that were threatening are falling down his cheeks now as he continues with an apology.

"I'm sorry. Mum said I wasn't allowed to mention his name incase it made you sad." His bottom lip and chin are trembling by now, the simple fear of not wanting to upset his Dad. That finally spurs him into action and he takes a long look at me before he undoes his seatbelt while I'm still driving down the motorway. His legs brush past me as he climbs into the back to sit beside Sam and pull him towards him. I keep my eyes on the road, trying to keep a handle on the sob I can feel building in my throat.

"Don't cry Scamp." He kisses the hair on the top of his head. "You'll never make me sad talking about Elvis. I promise. Well. Not unless you remind me of the time he made me run across Manchester in full dress uniform and a buggered leg to deliver bad news."

Sam looks up at him as he sniffs again. "Did he know he was going to die Dad? Was he scared?"

All I can hear is the deep steadying breath taken from behind me. I can't bear it. How the fuck do you explain it to an 11 year old kid?

"Elvis was….he was doing a very dangerous job, but it was one he loved more than anything. He wasn't scared." The answer seems to satisfy Sam for a minute and gives him the confidence to speak again.

"I hit Harry because... he said I was making it up about Elvis being my uncle. He said I was only saying it because he's been in the newspapers. He called me a liar. So I punched him."

There's a hiccup mixed up with a sniff as Charles pulls him to his chest and smooths his hair like he's a tiny little kid again. Usually he'd be pulling away and fixing it to the style he tries to gel it in, but this is different, and he's burrowed in his lap letting him do it. I feel like an intruder on their bond for a minute till Charles looks up and brings his spare hand forward to cup my cheek. I hold it there for a minute, before I press my lips to his fingertips, trying to tell him how much I love him.

He swallows a couple of times and clears his throat, before he speaks. "Scamp. For the one and only time in your life, I'm going to say exactly what Elvis would have said."

"What would he have said Dad?"

There's silence for a beat, Charles shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath. My heart's breaking for him, till he grins knowingly. I can almost hear the next words in Elvis' unmistakable voice.

"I hope you knocked the little tosser out."

I snort a laugh out, Charles is exactly right. That, combined with the childish giggles from Sam in the back of the car are enough to bring the tear that had been threatening down my cheek. I'm filled with a sudden surge of love; for the boy that's wrapped up in his Dad's arms behind me, and for the man holding him. All he's ever wanted to do is make me happy. I feel exactly the same about him.

The reassuring sweep of the wipers carries on, the rain still pounding onto the car. My eyes meet Charles' again in the mirror as he comforts Sam, and it's like the last few years, the death and the war, drop away for just a few peaceful seconds. I know the road ahead of us ain't gonna be a simple one, but the two of them are all I need to feel like our world is gonna be alright.

—-


	10. Chapter 10: In This Proud Land

_The lovely Pinerug has contributed this heartfelt One Shot as part of The Miniaturist's Anthology series. I'll leave the introduction to the good lady herself, as she explains her inspiration and gives us a gentle nudge to consider another side of the story we love so much._

 ** _As we discussed the anthology project an idea started forming in my mind to explore how Molly's experiences might be felt by someone in her family. To me there's a pivotal moment in Belinda's relationship with Molly where she realises her daughter has had experiences beyond anything she can imagine, but she's still her mum, with all those instincts to protect and make everything better . I've never tried writing just Belinda before but I've enjoyed her, the character took on a life of her own, so forgive me if it wanders about a bit. I hope I haven't been too revisionist to Dave, he's far from perfect but I'm very fond of him. Pinerug_**

 **In this Proud Land**

 **By Pinerug**

'Ants in his pants' don't really do Kamal justice. I've never known a kid to fidget as much as him. The harder he tries to concentrate, the more he moves. His finger on the page under 'although' is the only still part of him. His face scrunches up, his tongue pokes out from between his teeth, his back end is bouncing about like a frog in a sock. Any minute now I expect him to climb on the table. It wouldn't be the first time. I gently put my hand on his back to try and still him.

"Give it a try" I say, trying to be encouraging. "What can you see?" Poor mite scrunches his eyes, squinting at the word "Ah, luh, tuh, huh"

"Yeah, but a tuh and a huh together make what?"

He kicks the chair out from underneath him "I can't do it! Stop making me! I'm too stupid to do any of this" he storms off to the corner of the room, burying himself in a pile of cushions in the quiet area. My heart goes out to him, the poor love is really struggling. If he were mine I'd be wrapping him up in a big cuddle. Some days you wonder why someone ain't already done something like that. The poor buggers need someone to be that bloody human for them or else there's not much point is there?

I push myself up from the tiny chair, my hips give a little cramp in protest as I sit down next to him and address the back of his head.

"You ain't stupid, love. This is hard stuff to get into your noggin, but you'll get there, you just gotta keep trying." I'm addressing his back as he ain't moved from the cushions and is refusing to look at me. "Everybody's different, I bet there's things you can do that I don't know to do. Let's see. I can't touch my toes. I bet you can do that."

Got him. I've not met the kid who can resist the chance to out do a grown up. He's sitting up, grasping his feet stretched out in front of him. "Balance on one leg without wobbling" I say, and he takes great delight in showing me up again. Mind you, I'm at a bit of a disadvantage, my body ain't what it used to be. After 7 kids, wobbling is kind of my specialty. He's challenging me to make farting noises with my armpits when he reminds me we're supposed to be working on his reading. "Th" he says "tuh and huh make th"

I can't resist giving him that hug, the smile on his face is huge and I'm grinning back at him. It ain't much, but he's that pleased with himself. His little arms steal around me and my heart is almost spilling over I'm that proud of him. Shazza was right, it can seem like a right grind at times, but little moments when a penny drops and you know you've made a difference, even that small; well there's nothing like it.

I know Dave reckons that I've got more than enough on me plate at home, and he'd be right, but my kids are growing up, even little Martin, and soon they won't need me like this no more. Truth is I love the little bleeders, I love their curiosity, their enthusiasm, their honesty. They grow up so quick and then they don't need you, not like before. I watch Martin, my last baby, chasing after his brothers and sisters in such a hurry to grow up when I want him to stay being my little baby, snuggling into my neck and holding on tight forever.

Cos they grow up and you can't keep them out of harm's way no more. Then you've got my lot who seem to run headlong into danger and nothing you can do or say will stop them. Take my Molly. Don't get me wrong, I'm dead proud and everything, but sometimes I feel like a bit of my heart is teetering on a ledge and any moment it's gonna fall off and smash into tiny little pieces. I want her home under my roof, then I'll feel calm again. She'll be home soon and I'll get to have all of them under one roof and I'll sleep easy then.

Next week. They're coming home next week. That's what the bloke from Welfare said. Tuesday or Wednesday, they'll know more in a day or so.

I shit bricks when I got the call. You always think the worst. Dave says you don't need to worry when they phone, it's when they're at your door that the news is bad. Still, even he looked a bit grey around the gills when the fella was on the phone with me. But it's all good. She's out of Afghan, reckons all of them are in Cyprus, decompression he called it. Holidaying at the taxpayers expense Dave reckons which shouldn't bother him as he don't pay no tax. He went down the pub as soon as I got the call.

Welfare bloke says we can come to the airport, see them arriving home. Don't know how we'll manage but I've got a bit put by so we might be able to get the train. I forgot to ask him how we get there. I'll need to get someone to take the kids, and get the day off of work. Ain't nothing gonna stop me seeing my girl come home.

The poor love looks done in. She don't smell too good neither but none of us mention that. She finally dropped off about 30 minutes ago, her head lolling backwards. I quietly undid her seatbelt and slowly moved her so she was resting against me. She shuffled a bit but she didn't wake up, instead she snuggled into me, sighing slightly. I sneaked my arm around her, my heart was bursting. There was nights when I sat up wondering if I'd ever hold her again, ever see her again. Nights when I'd seen stuff on the news, dust and boots and the faces of kids her age, smiling, tanned, happy as the newsreader read off their names and how they had died. Sniper. IED. Ambush. Green on blue. My heart would be in my throat, worried that I'd see her face on the screen, another smiling, tanned girl in uniform, snapped and saved forever as a list read out by Huw Edwards; a name, an age and a way to die.

But she's here and she safe, her eyelids are fluttering a bit and there's a patch of drool spreading across my shoulder and she smells worse than Dave after he's been on a bender but my heart is so full I think it's gonna burst. There's tears running down my cheeks. I'm so happy, and I feel so grateful that I'm not the mum of one of those kids on the news. I feel bad about that, and I cry more because they won't ever get to have what I have right now, and they must hate people like me.

I have to cry quiet like, so as not to disturb Mum. She ain't the most confident driver, and Dave sitting there gripping the handle on the door until his knuckles are white isn't helping. We're all keeping quiet, cos she says she can't concentrate with the chatter. Can't even put on the radio. It's strange being with all these people and being quiet, normally you can't shut my lot up. You can hear my house from down the street most days. But it's nice in a way, I don't have nothing else to do but sit here with my Molly leaning her head on my shoulder like she did when she was little. Nothing to do but listen to her breath in my ear and feel the tears on my cheeks. Nothing but hold my baby tight and be thankful she came back alive.

We left her at the hospital in Birmingham. She said that Smurf had got shot in some action just before they left Afgan. She said it casual like, but you could tell she was worried. I think there's more to her and Smurf than she's letting on. Molly was never one to give anything away, plays everything close to her chest. You can't pry or else she snaps shut like a trap. I'll bide my time, now it's something I know I have. She's home and that's the main thing.

I don't know what that means, "some action", but it put poor Smurf in the hospital so it can't be good. I try not to think about it too much, to put it out of my mind, but it's a long quiet drive home and it keeps on popping into my head. I'll be staring out the window, watching the grassy banks of the motorway blur into a jumble of green dotted with blobs of colour and suddenly I find my brain is thinking about it. I can't help but think of what I see on the news, them dusty lads, barely more than kids, the way it cuts between them lounging about, leaning up against camo netting, draped casually over guns with them floppy hats on, all colours of beige in their uniforms just like my Molls was wearing. Then it all changes, the guns swing round, there's dust and running, wobbly cameras, the gunfire don't sound like it does in films, it sort of pings, and then there'll be a thump and the camera goes all shaky again and falls to the ground and you see the dust and dirt before it cuts off and you find yourself leaning towards the tele, poised, ready, waiting to see more, to hear the names, to see the blurry smiling photos of someone's kid. I don't want to think of my girl seeing that, but she's bound to have, stands to reason. You spend your life bringing them up, trying your best to keep em safe, teach em to know what's right and wrong, and then you have to let them go. Hoping your love and your effort has been enough, enough so you knows they're gonna make the right choices. Cause there's gonna be choices you wish they don't have to make, times when there's nothing you can do but hope their instincts are good enough.

Maybe that's why I want to work with the kids. Cause not all of them get much good at home. Not saying I'm perfect or nothing, but I love my kids and I'm proud of them and I tell them that as much as I can. Mum reckons I'm too soft, but I remember what it's like growing up with a Dad who always tells you that you ain't enough, that they never wanted a kid like you. Useless now matter how hard you tried. We were kids. All we wanted was for him to love us, we thought we'd done something wrong so we tried and tried but it weren't never enough. We didn't realise it wasn't us until we was older. It was him. We could never be what he wanted, because he wouldn't let us. We could never be the boys he wanted, mum could never be the woman he wanted. We were better off rid of him, and that's a horrible thing to realise about your dad.

I know mum don't think Dave's much better, and I'm not so thick as to not know he's had his moments, but he's always been there for us, he's stuck it out when he could have walked away like so many do. He's not been in a good place since the accident, and for a while there I was worried we were gonna be stuck there, but change happens slowly for Dave and he fights it every step of the way, but he gets there in the end. He's doing his bit now, he gets the kids ready in the morning, gets Martin to nursery, he's even been known to do the washing up without being asked. I know he's proud of Molly, and that he's made up she's home, I can see it even if no one else can't.

We don't see Molly again until they finally get their leave. She wants us to come up for the medal ceremony and Mum even gets a lend of the car again. Dave cracks a load of jokes about needing danger money to ride shotgun and Mum makes him sit in the back seat all the way.

It's another quiet journey, Mum relents and lets us put on the radio, but she insists on radio two. We're going fine until Dave reckons he knows more than the bloke on Popmaster and starts yelling from the back seat. Mum got all flustered with the yelling and kept turning round to shout at Dave which made her veer out of her lane. Only the rumble of the tyres against the hard shoulder brought her to her senses. I turned off the radio and we rode the rest of the way in silence.

The barracks are a lot posher than what I expected, I thought they'd be a bit no frills but what we saw was all grand like a stately home. I've only been to visit Molly at barracks once before, that was Keogh and I never got further than the gate there. Here we was all welcomed in, they'd got us watching them all marching in and getting their medals. Mum and Dave were puffing up like a pair of peacocks and I tried to keep the tears at bay as best I could. They all marched so nicely, although I couldn't stand being shouted at like what they do. Some bigwig pinned all their medals on and then the bloke what did all the shouting said that Molly had been put forward for another medal and the Queen was gonna give it her. I think Mum damn near fainted away. After he said "Private Dawes…" not much went in. Something about Dylan Smith, who is Smurf I think. He said something about Molly saving his life when he came to stay on leave but I thought it was just an expression, you know like when someone covers for you when you're in trouble with a teacher, not actual real saving someone's life.

Dave of course is basking in her reflected glory. He's as happy as anything, everyone wants to congratulate him over Molls getting a medal and there's free beer flowing at the reception. Molly looked a bit uncomfortable, truth be told, but she was never one of those kids who liked attention, well, not the positive sort.

It feels good to have her home now. Under my roof where I've been wanting her to be all these months. The house is a squeeze, I know that, and I suppose this ain't where she _lives_ , lives no more but she's not going back to barracks for a while so just for a bit she's home and it's like it was before. All the time she's been away Dave's not been sleeping, staying up till all hours, watching the news channel with a beer on the go. Some nights he don't even come to bed. Tonight he does. He puts his arms around me and holds me close. He falls asleep quickly, but just before he does he tells me he loves me and I know he's happy we're all together at last.

Well that didn't last long. What was it the family liaison booklet said? "Period of readjustment"? Well it took about a day after coming home for Bella to be at her sister's throat. I've got my work cut out with that one, I can tell you. Her nose is all out of joint because she's back to sharing a room with Molly. She knows that ain't just her room, it's always been shared. We're too short on space to give a 13 years going on 20 Lady Muck a room by herself. When Molly don't need it no more she's gonna have to share with her little sister. Like it or not, that's the way it is. Bella's got a right face on her, glowering at me from the other side of the room. Well she can stew in it. I splashed out and got a bottle of wine in, Dave and Molly are cracking into the beers, neighbours and Dave's mates from the pub are dropping by. Even Shazza came round with a bottle. She's being dead kind, even if Dave don't seem to appreciate it. She didn't stay long. Got some drumming workshop to run at the community centre. I won't repeat what Dave said to that, but I hope Shazza didn't hear.

Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on Bella (the wine must be working), Molly's been away for so long what with her training and then off to Afghanistan that having her back is going to take some getting used to. And there's no denying she's changed. Take school. You couldn't have paid Molly to go to school. I gave up trying in the end, it was like hammering a square peg into a round hole. It's not like she's thick, she's as bright as a button, but you couldn't get her to see why she should be there and once she's got an idea in her head she don't let go. Bella's getting to that age now, where she has to say no to everyone and everything. She's started on about school and why she don't see the point, nothing I ain't heard a thousand times over. Guess who starts giving her chapter and verse about why you need to stay in school and get your exams? Only bleedin Molly. When she she started on about Bella passing up opportunities that girls all over the world are dying for I thought it was something from invasion of the body snatchers.

Bella's having none of it. She just rolls her eyes and gives Molly a 'whatever' before going back to her phone tapping away messaging her mates. I said she could ask them over if she liked and she looked at me like it was the worst idea in the world. God help me I don't know if I've got it in me to parent another teenager. I mean Molly's come out the other end alright, but it weren't like the Waltons, I can tell you.

She and Dave used to clash all the time, the height of her teenage years happened just after he lost his job. Thank god she didn't go off the rails, her rebellion was to go out and start earning, I think just to spite him, and some weeks her wage was all we had. The weeks when Dave would find the child support and put it on a horse or down his gullet. When it was days he was away, and the days when he never went nowhere, but watched everything, demanding her wages as soon as she stepped through the door. They would be at each other's throats, she would goad him on, pushing him, he would threaten to kick her out. She'd go off with some awful lads. Lads that weren't nice, that treated her bad. I could never understand why. Dave reckoned joining the army was just another chance to wind him up. Never thought she'd stick at it. When it looked like she was making a go of it he washed his hands of her. He was in a bad place them days. Molly never gave up though. She kept on going. Sometimes I'd get messages from her that I had to pretend I didn't. She'd be upset or knackered. They broke my heart, the sound of her voice down the line. Maybe she would have packed it in if she felt like she had somewhere else to go. Everything happens for a reason, that's what Mum says. Maybe Dave pushing her away was the making of her. It wasn't a gamble I was happy for him to make for us. Little by little I'd keep in touch. I couldn't phone, Dave would check. I deleted all them messages, but I couldn't get them out of my head. By the time I had the money and the space to track her down she was moved to Keogh. She looked so different. Her eyes sparkled when she talked about what she was doing, everything she was learning. She wasn't gonna give it up. This was her life now.

This wine ain't half making me maudlin. No point going over the past, it's done. Got to keep moving forward. That's the only way. We've got so much to look forward to, Molly's home she ain't going anywhere near Afghanistan again, I reckon she and Smurf might have something, he's a good lad. Maybe they'll get married. Settle down. Just as long as there ain't any kids too soon. I'm not ready to be a Nanna yet.

Something's up. I can tell. She ain't like she was before. At first I just reckoned it was tiredness, but she's up with the lark, off out running bleeding miles every day. Reckons she needs to keep her fitness up, but she's as fit as a flea. I thought maybe she's worried about Smurf. Told her we don't mind if she needs to go up to Birmingham to see him, but she says he's out now, back home. She's been over to Wales to see him before so I know she ain't bothered by that, but she ain't going nowhere. She's messaged him a bit, but not that often. She don't seem to know what to do with herself. I catch her sometimes, staring at nothing out the window, chewing on her lip, her brow all creased up like she's worried about something. Mum said she's been emailing some bloke in Afghan. Not army, a teacher or lecturer or something. Maybe she's thinking about going back to college, she always was a bright one. I tried to talk to her a bit about what she's gonna do next. Apparently she ain't staying with the lot she was with out there which seems a shame, they sounded like a nice bunch. She says as a medic she don't belong to the same regiment as them and she was just on a loan. But she's done good out there, she's got that medal and shown what she can do so she should get something good. Something nice and quiet I hope, but since when have one of my kids chosen the easy option? She don't really say no more. She's getting stuck into the washing up which makes her damn near a saint in my eyes, although battling with my greasy pans ain't really what she spent the last six months risking her life for.

Later on Dave rolls in from the pub with some news. Fat Paul got chatting with a bloke who does security over at the football. Told him about our Molls and what she did in Afghan, and how she got and medal and that. He got to talking about her with some fella at West Ham and they want her to come to a match and show them her medal. Dave's that excited. He reckons she can take a guest with her and he'll get in to watch a match, VIP box, the works. I told him it might be an under 18s match but he says no, full on proper match, maybe one of the big derbys or something. Proper big time. He's dead set on her taking it up, but she didn't look that excited when he said. She went off in another one of her runs. She's gonna wear a groove in the pavement if she does much more running. I told Dave to lay off the West Ham stuff. Give her time to have a think on it and she might fancy it, but if he keeps on at her she'll just dig in her heels and they'll have another falling out. I don't want no more aggro between them two. It's been lovely having her home and her and Dave getting on so well for a change.

Sometimes in the dead of night, when you're sitting up with a sleepless or sick kid it can all kind of get to you. You find yourself in the dark thinking about all the things that you don't think about in the daylight when there's light and noise and people around to keep your mind off them. But in the middle of the night is just you, and a small, fragile being who you would give anything at that moment to make right. And you end up thinking about all sorts. You fast forward through life and get to imagining their future. What's their life gonna be, will things be alright for them? What's the worst thing you are gonna hear from them? That they got pregnant, or they're trouble with the law, or in a gang. That they've got sick, the kind of sick that you don't get better from. You don't ever imagine that they'll be telling you they killed someone.

But my Molly did.

It was a noise downstairs what woke me. It weren't Dave, I turned over and there he was, snoring and farting as usual. I checked on the kids before I went down, all sleeping peacefully, only Molls' bed was empty. I know she ain't been sleeping too well of late, but the welfare booklet said they might take time to adjust, so I ain't made anything of it to be honest.

It was barely dawn, the sun weren't really up yet, and the traffic hadn't started. She was scrubbing away at the sink, I never seen the kitchen look so clean. I didn't know I had so much worktop space, it's been so long since I seen it without a pile of papers and school uniforms on it. Part of me was grateful, so grateful, not just because she's home, but because she can see. She can see that it's all a thinly cobbled together chaos, and she can take a little corner of that and sort it out, make it better. I might not seem much but I can't tell you what it's like to have someone lighten that burden. It feels wrong though. I'm her mum. I should be more in control of this, it ain't something my kids should be doing. Maybe she thinks I ain't coping. That taking myself away to work means I'm not doing everything I should be. Yeah, some things around here have slipped, there's no denying that, but we muddle through. Life ain't perfect and I'm sure it never will be. Then the strangest thing. I felt embarrassed. In front of my girl I felt embarrassed. At how much of a state things are, that already she's looking after me and after everything she's been through I should be doing that.

And then she just sort of crumples in front of me. She's standing there, in the quiet, it's just us and it's like someone has let the air out of her. She's crying, and I ain't seen tears from Molly in years. No mum can bear to see their children cry; no matter what age they are, when the tears come they're your little baby again, helpless, reaching out for their mum, and all you want is to take it all away, to make whatever it is hurting them disappear. "I'm dying" she says and I nearly black out from the panic that's welling up inside me. She can't die. She's 20. There's got to be some kind of mistake. With every word she seems to shrink into herself, and I'm frozen. I need to go to her, but my feet barely work. This must be a bad dream. I reach out and stroke her hair, she's real. This isn't a dream.

She's crying so hard and talking about a little girl being in danger, and even though it makes no sense I know she wouldn't do something like that. She's good down to her marrow, she's never gonna do that to someone else, especially not a kid. I don't understand how she can say that. What's happened to her to make her think that about herself? And then she says it. She killed someone. I don't know if I took it in, truth be told. She was crying and crying and all I could do was hold her, stroke her hair and tell her everything will be alright. She's home, and whatever else there is in the world it don't matter. Being here, where she belongs and where she is loved is the only thing that matters. She cried until I felt her tears seep through my dressing gown and all the while I rocked her, stroking her hair as I cradled her against me in the quiet bare kitchen as the world woke up to a new day.

She killed someone. My baby girl. She killed someone.

It's all I can think about. I've been going through the motions all day while those words run around in my head, over and over again. All the time at work as I wiped glue covered fingers, chivvied littleuns in and out of PE kits, wandered in the playground, I might as well not have been there. Mentally I'm stood in the kitchen, my heart in my throat not knowing what to say or do. I can't get my head around it; she's barely more than a child, and she's been to the other side of the world and literally had to fight for her life. How is that possible?

I haven't talked to anyone about it. For once I was grateful for the madness of my house in the morning, getting 5 kids dressed, fed and off to nursery and school don't leave much time to dwell on stuff. Dave hadn't stirred by the time we got out of the house, and Molly had taken herself off to her room for some quiet. There was a bit of a drizzle on the way back from school at lunchtime, the pavements shiny and slick and the traffic made a whooshing sound as it passed me on the walk home. I hadn't put on a coat, my arms were cold and my clothes clung to me. I can't say I really noticed, my mind kept on repeating "She killed someone. She killed someone" in time with my feet on the pavement.

When I got in Dave was up; Molly had headed off; shopping he said. Didn't say when she was going to be back. The house was a tip, the breakfast things hadn't been tidied away or washed up. The basket of clothes I had left by the washer hadn't been put on, yesterday's wash was still in the machine waiting for someone to move the dry clothes off the racks and make room. It never changes, just multiplies. Dave was sat on the sofa, empty cups and the tv remote next to him. Usually I'd have a grumble at him about it but today it's like I'm barely there. I go through the motions picking up, wiping down and folding and barely register the tiredness in my legs or the ache of my back. All the time the words whisper in my mind. Dave is talking away at me but I'm not taking in anything he says. With the lunch things stacked in the kitchen he finally leaves the house, down to the nursery to pick up Martin, no doubt via the offie or newsagent for beer or fags and the house is empty and quiet. I can't stand it; all the thoughts that have been running through my mind all morning clamour away so I run a sink full of hot water do give myself something to do, using too much liquid so the foam billows over the top of the sink like an explosion of clouds. I remember when Molly was small she used to stand on a step next to me scooping up the bubbles in her tiny hands, giggling as she blew into them, little puffs of bubbles flying into the air and landing on her arms and face, which made her giggle even harder. I can see her face now as clearly as if she was stood next to me now, her beautiful eyes crinkled up with laughter and the gaps in her teeth. How can this be the same girl who cried over a guilt and worry so big that she can't sleep and can't rest?

I don't know why she killed someone. I mean I can take a guess, I'm not naive, I know what they ain't over there spreading hearts and flowers. But I dunno, you always think of who they are fighting being sort of faceless, you don't reckon on them actually knowing them. When she was out there Molly would tell us about the village they were stationed at, the people she met out there and well, I always thought they were on good terms. Like they were happy for the army be there. I mean, they were helping them weren't they? You would think that they would be grateful if someone came over to help you kick them Taliban out. But Molly talked like it was someone she knew. The dad of that little girl she talked about in her letters. She would ask me to get sweeties for her. Now Molly says the girl has been taken away from her family and that she's in danger. She said the dad had wanted to send her away, marry her off. A little girl no older than my Bella.

Was that what happened? Did Molly have to shoot him to get the little girl away? If he's gone why is she still in danger? It was hard to take in, truth be told, she was that upset and it don't make much sense. She's home. She's safe, back home with us all but she can't let go. It's like a part of her was left over there, her spark, her positivity. She's back with us now, she should be happy, but she ain't and it's eating her up inside, the worry of it all. She should be happy, why ain't she pleased to be home? She ain't done nothing but be at home since she came back, the only time she goes out is to go running. I've tried not to think about it, I realise that now, but it ain't right. A girl like her should be out with her mates, living it up, out clubbing and whatnot, not home on the sofa with her dad watching the snooker till all hours.

The house is so quiet now. The boiler has stopped gurgling, the bubbles in the sink make a small fizz as they pop, one by one, clearing the surface of the water until I can see the patterns of the bowls underneath, the grey of stuck on weetabix, the glint of a teaspoon under the milky water. Last night there was more pictures of them dusty kids on the news, they smiled, squinting against bright sunlight, their tanned faces grinning back from a happier time, not the dust and blood and chaos that must have been the last thing they saw. We ain't been watching the news that much now. Now Molly's home we don't cling to it, straining every night for a glimpse. Molls was upstairs, but even so I felt tense, that she might come down and see us watching. That her seeing it would upset her somehow. After last night I'm not so sure it would. After what she said it sounded like she wanted to stay out there longer, make things right by that little girl. Like there was unfinished business. I know my Molls. She fixates on things, she gets her blinkers on, puts her head down. The army's brought that out in her. It's given her a path, but now they've taken it away again.

They said on the news that we was pulling out of there. No more soldiers. I hope they are right. I don't want her going there again, I don't think I could handle it. All that worry, that watching, living every day with your heart in your throat. I know what she's like, she wants to make good what she's started but I sleep easier with her home. Is that wrong? To want your child safe? The parents of them kids on the news wouldn't think so, I bet. I'll trade the safety of my baby for another mother's kid. That's the choice ain't it? What a fucking choice. My kid or yours. Is that what these kids are dying for, face down in the dust? Don't matter what I think at the end of the day, does it? Cause she ain't a kid. None of them are. They are to their mums and dads, but not in the eyes of the law. They're grown up and they make their own decisions.

I ain't making much headway with the washing up. The bubbles have all but disappeared and the water is getting cold. The weetabix ain't shifted, still stuck to the side of the bowl like it's been welded on. I've been stood here, clinging to the sink like it's holding me up, the only noise in the house is the plop of my tears as they drip off my chin into the washing up bowl. I have to get a grip. Get myself together. Dave will be home soon, Martin will be hungry and there's the ironing, the wash going stale in the machine and before I know where I am the rest of them will be home from school and I'll need to put the tea on. It never stops, the round of my day, morning noon and night, people needing me, needing fed, needing clothes.

But I'm so angry. I can feel it like a lump in my throat and a stone in my belly. I screw up my eyes but more hot tears squeeze out, seconds later plopping into the grey water. I don't know what or who I'm angry with, there's all these feelings and nowhere to put them. I'm angry with Molly, for making me worry. I'm angry with the people who call her a hero. I don't want her to be a hero, cause heroic things mean dangerous things, don't they? But she is a hero. They're giving her a medal and everything. I'm angry with Dave, how he just seems to accept things and move on. He ain't losing sleep over all this no more, just thinking of his next can, or smoke or whatever. I'm angry with this house, the way it's trapped me between its walls, stuffed full of junk and toys and noise and responsibility. I'm angry with myself, for not counting my blessings more, not being satisfied with where I am. It's better than it's been in a long while, but I don't want to see that.

I've got to pull myself together; I breathe in and out, big shuddering breaths that get stuck and then spill out with no control, my ribs hurting with the effort. I bite down on my bottom lip, trying again and again. There's no use in this, it ain't going to help no one or get anything done. Crying and feeling sorry for myself is something I save for them long lonely nights when there's no one about to see me crumble. I can hear my mum's voice in my head telling me to get a grip, that I need to be stronger than this. And she's right. I have to keep it together, for the sake of Molly, for Dave, for the kids, cause that's what I do. That's what's important, to hold them together, to be the strong one that holds them up when they need it, to ground them, to be there for them. And that's what I will do. That's who I am.


End file.
